


Mono a Mono

by violetvaria



Series: Stable AU [5]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mac doubts his value and his place in Jack's life, Mood Swings, Rocking chair, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sickfic, Stable AU, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, bed sharing, dad!Jack, exaggerated symptoms and communicability of virus, lots of physical affection, mentions of Jack/Diane and Mac/Katie, teen!Mac, too many allusions to The Odyssey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 00:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18128465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetvaria/pseuds/violetvaria
Summary: “Hey, Jack?”Jack looked up from locking his office door. “Yeah, kid?”“Um…I—” Mac was interrupted by a ragged cough. “I, uh, don’t feel so good.”Jack let out a breath and turned to fully face his son. “’Bout time you said something, kiddo. You’ve been lookin’ like crap for days.”Mac shot him a glare, the effectiveness of which was marred by the feverish flush on his cheeks. “How come I have to tell you if you always already know?”Jack crossed his arms and returned the glare, stalling as he attempted to come up with a good answer. The kid had a point.~~~set in dickgrysvn's Stablehands + Stable Homes AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Boozey_The_Ghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boozey_The_Ghost/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Stablehands + Stable Homes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294171) by [dickgrysvn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dickgrysvn/pseuds/dickgrysvn). 



> Thanks, as always, to the gracious and talented dickgrysvn for creating and sharing this AU! It is essential to read her story [**Stablehands + Stable Homes**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294171), just in general, but especially before (or instead of) anything else in this universe.
> 
> Thanks also to Boozey_The_Ghost, without whose inspiration and encouragement this work would have never been started, much less completed. Thank you! And my apologies that this ended up being about ten times longer than I anticipated, yet still manages to have virtually no plot. I hope it provides a few moments of enjoyment anyway!
> 
> Note about Stable-canon timeline: In this work, Mac is sixteen, even though Jack and Diane didn't start dating until he was seventeen. Please overlook this deviation.

**_Friday_ **

“Hey, Jack?”

Jack looked up from locking his office door. “Yeah, kid?”

“Um…I—” Mac was interrupted by a ragged cough. “I, uh, don’t feel so good.”

Jack let out a breath and turned to fully face his son. “’Bout time you said something, kiddo. You’ve been lookin’ like crap for days.”

Mac shot him a glare, the effectiveness of which was marred by the feverish flush on his cheeks. “How come I have to tell you if you always already know?”

Jack crossed his arms and returned the glare, stalling as he attempted to come up with a good answer. The kid had a point.

“What if I miss something?” he finally said. “I might not always see what’s goin’ on.”

Mac huffed. “You’re _always_ watching. Hovering like a creepy vulture or something.”

Jack raised his eyebrows, and the kid had the grace to blush. Or it could have just been the fever rising.

“Sorry,” Mac muttered.

“All right, bud. I’m gonna let that one slide since you’re feelin’ so lousy. C’mere.” As usual, Jack did not give his kid time to respond before reaching out, clasping Mac by the shoulders. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Mm…sore throat. And kind of a headache, I guess.” Mac’s voice was rough, and Jack suspected it hurt more to speak than the kid was letting on.

“Uh-huh.” Jack tested the boy’s forehead with the back of his hand. “Think you’ve got a fever there too, hoss. Let’s get you home to bed, all right?”

Mac thought about arguing, but he was so tired. Had been for days, really. He didn’t protest as Jack led him out of the darkened barn and shepherded him into the truck, but he did shove Jack’s hands away when the man attempted to buckle his seatbelt for him. He felt awful, but he wasn’t helpless.

Somehow, securing the belt on his own was less satisfying than he’d imagined. Mac leaned against the window, the cool glass welcome on his feverish forehead.

Jack wordlessly started the truck, casting worried glances at the kid next to him. Mac had seemed a little rundown the last few days, but it hadn’t looked that bad, so Jack had waited, giving Mac the opportunity to bring it up himself. But of course the kid had waited until after he had attended a full week of school, including Wednesday’s inaugural meeting of the school’s science club, after he’d hosted a Thursday-night movie screening in his basement lair for Bozer, Riley, and Katie, _and_ after he’d worked at the stable this evening.

Jack had to bite his tongue to keep from scolding the kid for refusing—once again—to take his own health into consideration. Guilt pricked at his conscience. The fever was new, he was pretty sure, but maybe he could have caught it earlier this evening. Or he should have just confronted Mac yesterday or the day before. Mac might have—check that, _would have_ —tried to downplay the symptoms, but maybe Jack could have curtailed some of his activities so he could rest.

He reached out a hand, found Mac’s shoulder, and squeezed. _Guess we both need to do better about watching out for you, kid._

It wasn’t until they were home that Jack realized the devious planning involved in the timing of Mac’s admission.

“How you feelin’, bud?”

Mac shrugged.

“Wanna eat somethin’?”

Mac shook his head so firmly that Jack didn’t think it was worth pursuing.

“All right. How ‘bout you get some rest, and we’ll see how you feel tomorrow? If you still feel bad, we can make an appointment with Doc B.”

Mac shook his head again. “Saturday.” His voice was scratchy, but he had an unmistakable air of smugness.

Jack just stared in shock for a minute. The kid had deliberately pretended he was fine all week just to avoid the doctor?

“There is such a thing as urgent care,” Jack pointed out, carefully keeping his tone neutral. He did not need to provoke the kid into a battle of wills.

Mac scowled. “Not…urgent.”

Jack sighed, but he knew a bargaining chip when he saw one. “We’ll see. We can talk about it more tomorrow.”

He knew from the stubborn set of Mac’s jaw that the kid intended to fight him on the whole going-to-the-doctor issue, but that was a problem for tomorrow.

“Go on to bed, son. Get some sleep.”

An hour later, when Jack poked his head into Mac’s room, he took in the scene and didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh. Mac had managed to change into pajamas but had simply dropped his clothes in a heap on the floor. When he’d crawled into bed, apparently he’d fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, and the covers were partially twisted around him in a tangled mess, partially pooling off the bed and onto the floor. The beside lamp was still on, and Mac’s phone was near but not connected to its charger.

Jack shook his head, moved closer to his sleeping son, and ran his hand through the soft blond hair. Mac didn’t even twitch, so Jack let himself repeat the action. Again. And again.

Jack knew, rationally, that Mac was too old for his dad to tuck him into bed, so he tried not to enter the kid’s bedroom without a really good reason, but Mac had never voiced an objection the times Jack checked on him at night. Sure, he sometimes rolled his eyes and grumbled something about _papa bear_ , but his lips were always quirked in that slight smile that Jack knew meant he wasn’t really upset.

And when he was dead asleep, he couldn’t complain even in jest.

Eventually Jack shook himself, realizing he was sitting on the edge of Mac’s bed, stroking the kid’s hair in a continuous rhythm that was more soothing to himself than to the slumbering teen. He pulled the blankets off the floor and carefully smoothed them over his son. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the too-hot forehead before plugging in Mac’s phone and turning off the light.

“Goodnight, son. Sleep tight.”

 

**_Saturday_ **

It was almost noon before Mac stumbled out of his room, hair disheveled and clothes in disarray. He headed straight for the refrigerator and pulled out a quart of orange juice, starting to lift it to his lips before hesitating, looking around and seeming to notice for the first time that Jack was standing there. The kid lowered the juice guiltily, and Jack took pity on him and grabbed a glass from the cupboard so Mac didn’t have to expend further energy.

Jack waited until Mac had finished half the glass.

“Still feelin’ bad, huh, kiddo?”

Mac shrugged.

“Think we need to make a trip to urgent care?”

Mac was shaking his head before Jack even finished the question.

“Mac. Think about it for two seconds before you say no.”

“’M fine,” the kid rasped.

Jack stepped closer and took the juice carton and empty glass before Mac could drop them. “You wanna rethink that?”

Mac chewed his lip for a moment and then attempted to deflect. “Lessons.”

Jack took in the vague gesture that pointed from himself to the door. “Already finished lessons this morning, bud. Nothing scheduled this afternoon, so I’ll go back and take care of the horses later. Which means I can take you to the doctor.”

Mac was glowering. “Just a cold.”

“That right? How about we check on that fever, okay?”

Jack headed for the bathroom medicine cabinet to fetch a thermometer. When he returned, Mac had dragged himself to the living room to flop onto the couch.

“You’re doin’ a great impression of a corpse there, buddy. You still wanna tell me you don’t need a doctor?”

His only reply was a slit-eyed glare, which he ignored. “Here. Open up.” He popped the thermometer in Mac’s mouth before the kid could formulate an argument.

“One hundred point one.” Jack frowned, looking from the thermometer to Mac.

Mac could sense that Jack was wavering. He fumbled at the coffee table until he found a legal pad and a pen and wrote, _Low grade_.

Jack crossed his arms. “It’s still a fever.”

Mac tapped the pen against the words on the pad, reiterating his point.

Time for bargaining. “Tell you what, bud. You sleep today and eat something besides orange juice, and we won’t go to urgent care. Okay?”

Mac’s expression was suspicious. “’Morrow?”

“All bets are off for tomorrow, kiddo. We’ll check your temp again and go from there.”

The kid’s mouth slid into a pout, but Jack didn’t call him on it.

“We got a deal? Rest today and no doctor?”

Mac huffed out a breath but finally nodded.

“All right. How ‘bout I get you somethin’ to eat? Or you wanna sleep for a while first?”

Mac wanted to propose something other than those two options, but he had already burned through what little energy he’d had when he’d woken up. He tipped sideways on the couch, hoping Jack would take the hint and not send him to his room to sleep. The walk down the hallway just sounded way too taxing right now.

He felt a blanket being tucked around him, and then Jack’s hand, large and warm and calloused, was cupping the back of his neck.

“Okay, just rest there for a bit, son.”

Mac drifted in and out of consciousness most of the afternoon. At one point, he was pretty sure he heard Jack saying something about heading to the stable, but he didn’t know if his acknowledgement was uttered aloud.

And then Jack was shaking him awake, and he could see through the frosted pane at the top of the door that it was dark outside. How had the whole day gone by already? He moaned, and Jack was next to him in a heartbeat, supporting his weight as he sat up.

“No better, huh?”

Jack’s hand was already on his forehead, and his fingers felt so cool that Mac knew he was still feverish. Mac sagged against Jack’s shoulder, worn out from the effort of sitting upright, lacking even the energy to berate himself for being so pathetic.

Jack was busy propping the kid up with one arm, moving so he could reach the coffee table with the other hand. He lifted a glass of apple juice and held it so Mac could sip through the bendy straw Jack had thoughtfully placed in it.

The juice was cool on Mac’s burning throat, but the act of swallowing hurt enough that he pulled back after a few mouthfuls.

“Try a little more, buddy,” Jack coaxed. “You hardly had anything to drink all day.”

The straw was once more at his lips, and Mac took a teeny sip to show that he was being agreeable, hoping Jack would let it go.

He should have known his dad better than that.

Jack put the glass down but picked up a bowl. Mac’s eyes were closed, but when Jack brought it close, he could smell the mashed potatoes.

After glancing between his son and the bowl, Jack settled the dish in his lap so he could use his free hand to wield the spoon, not loosening his grip on his kid.

“Here ya go, kiddo. Try a bite.” He tapped Mac’s lower lip with the spoon, which seemed to stun the kid enough that his mouth opened slightly, and Jack slid the half-full spoon inside.

He managed three more bites before Mac turned away, so Jack grabbed the juice, of which Mac drank a miniscule amount. Jack picked up the potatoes again.

“C’mon, try a little more.”

But Mac had his face buried in Jack’s shoulder and refused to even look up. Jack was ready to cajole him into eating or drinking more when he felt the thin ribcage under his arm heave slightly, and he felt dampness on his shoulder.

His first panicked thought was that Mac had just vomited everything he’d managed to eat, but then reason kicked in, and he realized the kid was crying.

“Hey, buddy, c’mere.” Jack moved the dishes to the table so he could gather his son in both arms. “Shh, it’s okay. I got you. What’s wrong? You hurtin’ real bad?”

Mac just clung more tightly, the near-silent weeping obvious only because the wet patch on Jack’s shirt was growing.

“Mac? You need a hospital? We can go to the emergency room right now if you need.”

Mac shook his head, but Jack wasn’t inclined just to take the kid’s word for it.

“Talk to me, son. I need to know what’s wrong. Where’s it hurt?” Jack managed, barely, to keep the alarm out of his voice and attempted a manual examination, starting at the top of the kid’s head, but Mac’s face was still hidden, so Jack felt the back of his neck instead. He didn’t think the fever was much worse than it had been. He gently prodded the kid’s ribs and received no response, and the pulse was perhaps a little elevated, but not worryingly so.

“C’mon, kid. What’s goin’ on?”

Mac shook his head again. Even if he’d been able to talk through the fire in his throat, there was no way he could explain to Jack what had caused this emotional release. He didn’t really understand it himself. It was just that…Jack had been _literally_ spoon-feeding him, and he’d wanted to push it away, tell Jack he wasn’t a baby, that even the creamy mashed potatoes were hard to swallow and he didn’t want to eat anymore, but another part really didn’t want Jack to stop, the part that was enjoying the way Jack was taking care of him as if he were six years old, and he suddenly felt an indescribable wave of sorrow for the real six-year-old Mac, who had suffered through chicken pox on his own, afraid of complaining, and his head ached, and then he was sobbing on Jack’s shoulder, which was just making the man worry more, and hadn’t he caused enough problems? And—

“Mac.”

The tone had changed from coaxing to commanding. Mac took a quick breath and lifted his head.

“There you are.” Jack’s voice was gentle again. “Think you got lost for a minute there, bud.”

Mac raised one shoulder.

“Wanna tell me where you went?”

Jack didn’t really expect Mac to answer, and he didn’t.

“You’re not sicker, right, kiddo? You don’t feel worse?”

Mac shook his head.

“Somethin’ just make you…sad, maybe?”

Mac looked away.

“Okay. It’s okay. Sometimes a fever can make feelings seem a little…closer to the surface. It’s all right.”

Jack couldn’t miss the look of pure gratitude on the kid’s face. He gave up on pushing nourishment and decided Mac just needed comfort instead. At least, he hoped his instincts were right about that because Jack really needed to hold his kid. Immediately.

“C’mere.” Jack snagged the kid’s hand before standing, bringing Mac with him. He took three steps over to the recliner, picking up a throw blanket on the way. He wrapped the blanket around Mac, plopped down in the overstuffed chair, and pulled Mac into the tiny space next to him.

Mac was silent and expressionless throughout the entire procedure, but he curled into Jack, resting his ear on the man’s chest so he could listen to his heartbeat. Jack began rocking, and he felt Mac relax a little at the familiar movement.

He thought Mac might have dozed off, but after a while, the kid twisted to look at the clock and made a face.

“What’s up, kid?”

Mac mouthed the word _Diane_ , but no sound emerged.

Jack puzzled over this for a moment. “Di—oh! Yeah, I was supposed to have a date tonight. Not somethin’ for you to worry about, kid.”

Mac frowned so fiercely that Jack lifted a hand to his cheek to smooth away the furrows. “I know what you’re thinkin’, and no, it isn’t a problem for me to cancel a date to take care of you. Nowhere I’d rather be than with you, son, you know that.”

The scowl lessened only slightly.

“But turned out, I didn’t have to cancel. She called this afternoon. Riley’s down for the count too. Maybe she caught what you—” Jack broke off, not wanting to give Mac ammunition, no matter how inconsequential, for blaming himself for anything. “Maybe you both caught the same thing,” he amended.

Mac tilted his head, accepting this explanation.

“Forgot to tell you that Bozer texted me earlier today to cancel his lesson. Must be somethin’ goin’ around ‘cause he sure didn’t sound good.” Jack fished for his phone. “’Course, maybe that’s just the way he texts. Sent me a message for you too, actually. I think.”

Mac peered at the phone that Jack held up for him.

 **_Mac’s Sidekick:_ ** _Cant tday sick_

This was followed by several emojis, including a puppy with a bandaged head and a blue face with a thermometer sticking out of the mouth.

 **_Jack:_ ** _You’re sick? Sorry, buddy. Feel better._

 **_Mac’s Sidekick:_ ** _Thx. Tell m sry eng hw_

“Any idea what that means?”

Mac smiled a little and nodded.

“You gonna interpret for me, or do I have to guess?”

Mac waggled one hand, possibly performing half a charade, or possibly indicating it wasn’t important. Jack decided to assume he was trying to communicate.

“He talking about English homework?”

Mac nodded.

“You two were gonna study together?”

Another nod.

“Due on Monday?”

Shake.

“Tuesday?”

Nod.

“Okay. Hopefully you’re feelin’ better by then. Let’s not worry about it right now, okay?” Jack pulled him closer, and Mac let himself sink bonelessly into his father’s embrace, eyes closing, exhausted from the exchange. “You wanna try to eat a little more?”

The headshake was entirely expected. Jack shifted the kid so he was lying with his back against Jack’s side, head tucked into the crook of Jack’s neck. He wrapped one arm around Mac’s chest and began rubbing slow circles on Mac’s stomach with the other hand. Mac hadn’t complained of nausea, but then again, he’d barely complained about any of his symptoms.

Mac was not, in fact, nauseated, but the warm hand on his stomach felt surprisingly good. Really, amazingly good. His throat was still sore, but this was the best he’d felt all day, finally warm enough without being too hot, his headache easing with the gentle swaying motion of the rocking chair. He had the hazy thought that if he were a cat, he’d be purring by now. And then he fell into a dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: extremely mild implications of past child abuse
> 
> Note: Some slight references to [**Completely + Forever + No Matter What**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17687378), but it is probably not necessary to read that one to understand this one.

**_Sunday_ **

Mac awoke in his own bed with no memory of moving there. He groaned. He was so sick of being sick. Wasn’t there some universal law that said sleeping for basically thirty-six hours straight would make you feel better? If not, there should be.

Mac started to roll over, felt a spike through his temple, and thought better of it. He stared at the ceiling instead. He could tell from the light filtering through the curtain that it was late morning. How was he still tired?

And why wasn’t Jack there, bugging him about going to urgent care?

The instant the thought occurred to him, he was apprehensive. To hear his friends tell it, his dad was pretty indulgent, one of the reasons they enjoyed hanging out at Mac’s house, but Mac knew the man was no pushover, and there were times when Jack would not be persuaded. He carefully turned his head and spotted a folded sheet of paper perched on his nightstand. Moving slowly, he managed to pick up the note with two fingers, blinking until he could focus on the words.

_At stable. Back soon. Call if you feel worse. Rest._

If he’d had the energy, Mac would have rolled his eyes at the underlined portion. What else was he supposed to do when it took all his strength to lift a paper that weighed about a tenth of an ounce?

As if Jack had a sensor that told him Mac was conscious, he materialized in the doorway.

“Hey, you’re awake!”

Blue eyes traveled sluggishly to aim in his general direction.

“You’re really awake this time, right? We’ve played this game a couple times already today, hoss.”

Mac opened his mouth to ask what in the world Jack was yammering about, but just taking a breath sent a stabbing pain down his throat.

“Here.” Jack was instantly at his side, one arm under his shoulders helping him sit up slightly while he held the cup of honeyed tea he’d brought in. “Careful. It’s hot.”

The warm liquid did feel pretty good, and Mac slowly drank almost half the cup before leaning back.

“Attaboy.” Jack sat down on the bed. “You remember what we talked about earlier today?”

Mac didn’t have the foggiest notion what Jack was referring to, but he thought it would be better not to admit that, not until he had more information. He lifted an eyebrow, encouraging Jack to continue.

“Your temp was one-hundred one. Higher than yesterday, but still not super high.”

Mac felt a spark of hope. “No doctor,” he tried to whisper. The words were inaudible, but Jack caught the meaning just fine.

“We’ll go over it again, kiddo. We’re making a deal.” Jack fixed him with a serious look. “No doctor today, but if you still have a fever tomorrow, even if it isn’t too high, we’re making an appointment.”

For a moment, Mac searched his memory, trying to figure out when Jack had taken his temperature and if they’d already had this conversation. Jack seemed to think they had.

“Mac. You hear me?”

Mac frowned and nodded.

Jack studied him. “Give me half a reason, and we’ll go today, understand?” Mac seemed so out of it that Jack was getting worried. He could just be disoriented from sleeping so much, but if it were something more serious and Jack missed the warning signs…

The concern radiating from the man was nearly tangible. Mac tried to think of a way to alleviate some of his anxiety, but it was hard to concentrate. Eventually, he hit upon an idea and gestured toward his mouth.

“You wanna eat somethin’?” Jack’s eyebrows shot up, but some of the tension left his shoulders. “That’s a good sign. You stay here and I’ll bring you somethin’, okay?”

Mac hadn’t planned on moving, so it was easy to smile compliantly. The smile slipped when Jack left the room. He figured if he managed even a bite or two, Jack would be satisfied for today, but he really had to break this fever somehow before tomorrow. But it was going to be difficult to take action if he couldn’t even get out of bed.

Oh. And if he couldn’t lift a piece of paper without collapsing on the mattress, he wouldn’t be able to hold a spoon or fork, which meant Jack was going to feed him again. Mac wasn’t sure if it was more humiliating that Jack would do that, or—nope, it was definitely more mortifying to realize he actually liked Jack’s mother-henning, at least a little bit.

Jack didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed when he waltzed back in and dropped easily at Mac’s side, not even offering the dish to the kid before holding a spoon to his lips. Mac accepted the mouthful of soft oatmeal, arguing with himself with every movement.

 _No one will ever know,_ a voice in his head pointed out.

 _Know what? That your dad is feeding you like a little baby bird?_ another voice sneered.

_That’s just Jack being Jack. He likes hugging and touching and stuff. He’s really…um, what’s that word? Tactical? Something like that._

_Tactile, you moron._

_Right. I knew that._

_Sure you did, dummy. Just like you know Jack isn’t the one who’s enjoying this._

_He is so! Well, at least, I think he is. Hmm, now that you mention it, he does look kinda worried…_

_Of course he does. Have you given him any reason NOT to be worried?_

_It isn’t my fault—_

_Oh, isn’t it?_

“Mac?”

Mac jerked when Jack patted his cheek.

“Hey, buddy, you with me? You kinda zoned out for a minute there.”

“Here,” Mac croaked, noticing with astonishment that he’d finished over a quarter of the oatmeal. Hopefully the increase in appetite would offset the fading attention span. He mustered the sweetest smile he could. “Jus’ ti’d.”

“You're tired?” Jack gazed fondly at the boy. “All right, you sleep some more. I’ll need to go back to the stable after a while, but you can always call if you need me, okay?”

Still aiming for docility, Mac nodded, leaning back against the pillows. He felt Jack watching him for another minute, but after stroking the kid’s forehead, Jack left the room without a word. Mac breathed a sigh that might have been relief.

_See, I must be feeling better. I ate something._

_Yeah, a whole five spoonfuls of oatmeal. Whaddya want, a parade?_

_Jack seemed glad about it._

_Maybe Jack was just glad you were done so he could stop coddling you._

_Jack doesn’t—Jack loves—_

_Keep telling yourself that, Angus. Doesn’t make it true._

Before the voices could continue their argument, Mac fell asleep.

 

~~~

 

The voices were already mid-fight when Mac swam back into wakefulness an hour later.

_Get up. Stop being useless._

_How exactly would I be useful? Not like I can make it to the stable right now. Besides, I think Jack already left._

Both voices were quiet for a second as Mac listened to the heavy silence of the house. He wondered how long Jack had been gone.

_Missing him already, baby boy?_

_Leave me alone. I’m tryna think._

_Yeah, I TOTALLY get why he thinks you’re a genius. Must just be humoring you. That’s what he does, you know._

_Go AWAY. We’ve got bigger problems._

_Yeah? Like what?_

_Like this stupid fever. Gotta get rid of it before tomorrow._

_Got a magic wand you’ve been stashing somewhere?_

Mac had never found biology as interesting as physics or chemistry, so he hadn’t spent much time studying human health. However, he had a faint recollection that he’d read somewhere about a patient with an extremely high fever being given an ice bath. That might have been set in the nineteenth century, but it was the only idea he had, and he had to move fast before Jack returned.

Moving fast was more wishful thinking than reality. Mac slid out of bed and promptly landed on the floor. After picking himself up twice, he gave up and crawled toward the bathroom. A cold shower—well, it sounded awful, to be honest, but if it could do something about this massively inconvenient fever, it would be worth it.

Jack heard the shower in Mac’s bathroom running when he got home. He was impressed. He’d figured the kid would be out for most of the rest of the day. If Mac had been feeling good enough to get up, maybe he was getting better.

Jack began humming as he finished the chicken-bacon wrap he’d picked up for himself on the way home and put the strawberry smoothie he’d gotten for Mac in the fridge. _Mac is better. He’s feeling better._ The words were pleasant lyrics.

After ten minutes, Jack was fretting again. The shower was still running. Mac rarely indulged in a lengthy shower, but maybe the hot water felt good. Nothing to worry about. Yet.

Another three minutes found Jack outside the bathroom. He knocked tentatively. “Mac?”

No response. Well, if the kid’s throat was still sore, maybe he couldn’t answer.

Jack knocked again, louder. “Mac? Kiddo, I need you to let me know you’re okay. Can you do that?”

No response.

It dawned on Jack that the pattern of falling water was too regular. If Mac was in the shower, he wasn’t moving.

“Mac, I’m coming in.” He was ready to break down the door if need be, but he twisted the knob first and found it unlocked.

“Mac!” Jack yanked the shower curtain to the side, took in the situation in a glance, and turned off the water, which oddly was almost freezing cold. The kid must have gotten confused and forgotten to turn the faucet to a warmer setting. Just like he’d been confused when he’d gotten into the bathtub in the first place, still wearing his pajamas.

Mac was curled up at the far end of the tub, completely soaked, shivering…and sleeping.

“Son? Can you hear me?” Jack grabbed the largest towel he could find, scrubbed it over the wet blond hair, and gently dried the kid’s face. “Mac? Wake up for me, okay?”

Mac groaned and curled more tightly into himself.

“Mac. I know you wanna sleep, but not right now, okay?” Jack levered the kid into a sitting position and wrapped the fluffy towel around him. He began rubbing the kid’s arms, trying to warm him up a little.

Mac managed to pry one eye partway open.

“That’s it. Can you stand up? We gotta get you outta those wet clothes.”

Mac looked down at himself, nonplussed.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought too. What the—what were you thinking, Mac?”

The kid’s head dropped, and Jack cursed himself for not exercising more self-control. This was not the time for reprimands.

“I’m sorry, kid. C’mon, let’s get you warmed up and into something dry, and then I brought one of those fruity drinks you like.” Although now that he thought about it, maybe that would be too cold for the kid right now.

Mac didn’t move.

“Kiddo? I’m sorry I yelled at you, okay?” This was an exaggeration—he’d barely raised his voice—but he knew the boy’s internal monologue amplified even the smallest amount of criticism. “Can I help you up? Please?”

Jack eased an arm around the kid’s torso, and Mac didn’t flinch away, which Jack interpreted as permission. He tried to pull the kid up without squeezing too hard, and Mac seemed aware enough to brace his socked feet, which immediately slid across the wet tub.

“Hang on.” Jack peeled off the waterlogged socks and tossed them aside. “Let’s try again.”

This time, they made it upright. Mac was shivering harder, and Jack rewrapped the towel around him. “We’ll get you into something warm, and then you can get under the covers, all right?”

He wasn’t sure he should be promising that. Maybe he should bundle the kid into the truck and take him straight to the emergency room. His skin was cool to the touch, but beyond being a little pale, his color was fine, and he seemed more or less aware of what was going on. Jack didn’t want to force him to a hospital if he didn’t have to.

_But after this little stunt, you’re gonna have to be feelin’ mighty good to get out of goin’ to the doctor tomorrow._

Back in Mac’s room, Jack dug in the dresser until he found a pair of flannel pajamas, which, now that he thought about it, he couldn’t recall Mac ever wearing. No time like the present.

Mac reluctantly allowed Jack to remove his shirt, dry him briskly with the towel, and slip the flannel over his head. He pulled away, however, when Jack reached for his pants, and Jack immediately backed off, respecting the teen’s shyness.

“Wanna do it yourself? That’s fine, son. Just sit down on the bed, okay? I’ll go make you some hot chocolate and be right back.”

Jack peeked into the room before re-entering, but Mac had managed to change clothes, wet pajamas and towel all puddled on the floor. Mac was stretched crosswise on the bed, eyes closed, an occasional shiver still shaking him from head to toe.

“Here, buddy, drink this.” For the countless time this weekend, Jack helped prop Mac up so he could sip at the cocoa.

A tiny smile flitted across the kid’s face. Jack had put miniature marshmallows on top. Mac finished most of the mug, which earned him a hair ruffle and an “attaboy.”

“You warmed up a little now?”

Mac nodded, eyes dropping to his fidgeting fingers, bracing himself for the lecture he knew was coming.

“Think you can sleep for a while?”

His gaze shot up.

“Hey, I don’t blame ya for wanting to take a shower. Just maybe next time make sure you’re a little more awake, okay? And until you’re back to a hundred percent, maybe wait until I’m home.”

So Jack hadn’t figured out the real reason for the cold bath. Mac felt a tiny stab of guilt, followed by a wave a relief, followed by a sharper pang of guilt for being relieved.

“Mac.” Jack was pulling aside the bedding. “Let’s get you all cozied in, okay?”

Mac acquiesced immediately, burrowing under the blankets. Jack seemed strangely reluctant to leave, patting the covers over and over again, as though they might suddenly leap out of place.

“Uh, kid…”

Mac unburied a hand and caught one of Jack’s, partly to stop the nervous motion, but mostly because his dad looked uncomfortable for some reason.

Jack instantly relaxed, smiled, and squeezed the kid’s hand in return. “Want me to stay with you for a while? Help you warm up?”

Mac felt his heart flip over a little at the hope in Jack’s voice. _Yes, of course,_ he wanted to say. Jack was better than an electric blanket, warming him inside and out, and Mac couldn’t imagine anything he wanted more at this moment.

_You really think you deserve that?_

_He offered._

_Just ‘cause he feels bad that you’re such an idiot._

_That’s not—_

_He has better things to do than hang around putting you to sleep._

_But—_

_For once in your life do the right thing, Angus._

Mac shook his head and turned away, closing his eyes so Jack couldn’t see the tears glimmering there.

Jack stifled his disappointment. He’d been terrified when he found Mac practically passed out in the shower, and he desperately wanted to cradle his son in his arms and reassure himself the kid was okay. But whatever Mac needed was more important than what Jack wanted. If Mac needed to be a little bit independent right now, Jack would respect that. He rubbed the blanket-covered form, bent down to drop a kiss on Mac’s temple, and then left, taking the almost-empty cocoa mug and wet clothing with him.

 

~~~

 

_Mac was in the nurse’s office at school. It was odd, though—the chair he was in seemed three sizes larger than normal. His feet didn’t even touch the floor._

_“Your dad will be here in a little bit, sweetie,” a faceless woman said kindly._

_Mac felt a throb of welcome assurance. Jack was coming. Everything would be okay._

_Then the door opened, and James MacGyver walked in._

_Mac felt as if he’d split in two, watching his six-year-old self silently follow his f—James to the car. On the drive home, James ranted about being pulled away from work for a stupid little fever, while Mac—both Macs—huddled in the backseat, trying to be invisible._

_They were barely inside the house before James announced he was going back to work, and Mac was old enough to take care of himself. Sixteen-year-old Mac was aghast at this, having successfully blocked out most of this memory, but the Mac from ten years ago simply nodded with only a brief wistful glance at his father before trudging to his room to bed._

_Mac hadn’t remembered the circumstances, but he remembered the child’s longing, wanting his dad to tuck him into bed and read him a story like his mom used to. He wished he could warn the little boy to stop hoping because that dream would never, ever come true._

_With dizzying suddenness, it was the next day, and little Mac was cowering in a corner of his bed, having just failed his father’s latest exam. He still had a fever, which meant he couldn’t go to school. James left the house in disgust, the child grateful he hadn’t noticed the itchy red blisters that had started appearing on his skin._

_Mac wanted this nightmare to end, but time seemed unreal, and he wasn’t sure there even was an end. He remembered the three days he’d been trapped inside, how the itching had become almost unbearable, but he’d managed even so to hide it from James—which, with a teenager’s jaded eyes, he realized had been easier because it wasn’t like James spent any time with the boy._

_But mostly he remembered being hungry. James didn’t always think about feeding him, but he could eat lunch at school, and sometimes there were snacks from teachers or treats that other kids’ parents brought in for their birthdays. This was the longest stretch of time he’d been virtually on his own, and the ache in his stomach was frightening._

_On the second day, he’d tiptoed to the kitchen, watchful even though he knew James was at work. Moving with infinite caution, he fixed himself a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, gulping it down in a matter of seconds._

_Teenaged Mac felt sick. He hadn’t eaten PB &J for years, could hardly stand to see it or smell it. The too-sweet scent of grape jelly made his stomach roil. How could a dream feel this real?_

_Six-year-old Mac climbed a stepstool next to the sink to wash the knife he’d used. And then James walked in._

_It hurt to see the wide-eyed vulnerability on the child’s face, and Mac wished he could make it better for the boy he had been, but he had no comfort to offer. He listened as James assumed Mac had been washing all the dishes and had said something positive for the first time in weeks. “That’s good, Angus.”_

_His gut twisted at the eagerness, the desire to please that he felt emanating from his former self. The child attacked the dishes determinedly when James left the room, but his energy soon waned, and his movements became slower, less precise._

_Mac watched as, inevitably, his younger self lifted a heavy glass casserole dish. What it had been used for, Mac had never known, but he remembered the feeling of the glass slipping from his fingers, remembered the horrible crashing sound it made on the floor._

_Remembered his father running in. Remembered…_

Wake up, wake up, wake up, WAKE UP!

Mac twisted violently in bed, one flailing hand knocking his nightstand over with a crash that thankfully did not sound like breaking glass. And then Mac tumbled off the bed himself, landing with a grunt on his left side.

Then the door was flying open, and his father was running in.

Mac did the only thing he could think of. He slid under the bed and crouched there, trying not to breathe.

“Mac? Buddy, you okay? What happened?”

Jack had arrived just in time to see Mac dive under the bed like a seal after a fish. He took in the collapsed table and figured something must have rolled under there, so he waited for Mac to reappear.

After two minutes, he realized Mac wasn’t coming out. Had he fallen asleep on the floor?

“Mac?” Jack knelt down next to the bed so he could peer underneath. He caught a brief flash of blue eyes, and then the kid was moving.

Away from him. He was scooting _away_ from Jack.

“Kiddo?” Jack tried to ignore the intense pain that had blossomed in his chest. “It’s all right, you’re safe now. Nothin’s gonna hurt you. Come on out of there, okay?”

He kept rambling. “You have a bad dream? I think your nightstand got the worst of it. You get hurt rollin’ out of bed like that?”

Mac still hadn’t moved.

“C’mon, bud, if you come outta there, I can make sure you’re okay, and then you can go back to sleep if you want. Or maybe you wanna go watch a movie for a while? That’d be fine. Tell you what, you can pick out whatever you want.”

He was getting nowhere. Jack decided it was time for a different approach. He dropped all the way down to the carpet, rolled onto his back, and crossed his ankles as though content to lie there all night. He stared at the constellations Mac had painstakingly stenciled on the ceiling.

“You’re really amazing, you know that, kid?” he said quietly.

Jack waited until he heard the harsh panting slow down, and then he slid one hand under the bed, palm up, telegraphing every motion, not turning to look.

“Whenever you’re ready, just take my hand, okay?”

Jack had time to count 84 stars before he felt slim fingers cautiously touch his. He held his breath and waited another moment, letting Mac press his palm to Jack’s before he curled his fingers around his son’s hand. He began rubbing his thumb in circles on the back of the hand clasped in his.

Sixty-three stars later, Jack figured he could make his next move. He tugged Mac’s hand very gently, stopping immediately when he felt resistance. Then he felt Mac shuffle a little closer to him. He squeezed his hand and pulled again, very lightly.

Tired of counting stars, Jack started a litany of soothing nonsense, mumbled at half volume in the tone he used with his most skittish horses. Inch by inch, he coaxed Mac nearer. When the kid’s hand appeared from under the bed, Jack pressed his lips to the scraped knuckles and then sat up, not releasing his grip on his son.

Mac emerged cautiously, studying Jack’s posture. The man was forcing himself to relax, leaning back against the wall, feet on the floor, knees apart. It was an unguarded pose, one that was clearly nonthreatening.

_It’s safe. It’s Jack._

_‘Cause you think you can just keep causing trouble and never face any consequences?_

A third voice joined the fray. _Look, you can’t stay under the bed forever. So whether or not you can trust him, you need to move._

_Yeah. Stop hiding like a stupid little kid._

_If Jack wanted to hurt you, he’d have done it already. He could have yanked you out from under there any time._

_Since you were stupid enough to give him your hand._

_Can you both just be quiet and let me think?_

_What is there to think about? Just be logical. You’ll tell Jack you’re fine, and you’ll get back in bed._

_I don’t think it’ll be that simple._

_Like to complicate things, doncha, Angus?_

_Jack will be worried._

_Yeah, worried that he’s stuck with you for another two years. Bet he regrets making it official now, huh?_

_Continuing to lie on the floor is not going to make him worry less. So get up._

_And hurry up, you idiot._

Jack continued to hold his hand and whisper calming gibberish as Mac tried to quiet the clamor in his head. Finally, he dragged himself across the carpet, hesitated another moment, and then crawled up to nestle against Jack’s chest.

By Mac’s estimate, Jack hugged him an average of nine times per day. The median was probably more like four, but there were some days, like yesterday and today, that Jack couldn’t seem to keep his hands off the kid, which brought up the arithmetic mean.

Yet Mac couldn’t get over how good it felt, every single time. Jack was warm and solid and wore soft shirts that smelled like clean hay and horses, and he petted Mac’s hair as if the kid were a horse himself, and he kept an arm around him that felt like security, not confinement.

“I love you, son.”

Oh, yeah, he was always saying stuff like that, too, murmuring in the kid’s ear as if Mac would believe it if he just got close enough.

Maybe he shouldn’t believe it, but he did.

He let Jack soothe away the remnants of nightmare still clinging like dustbunnies. He knew Jack suspected something had disturbed his sleep, and he hoped his dad wouldn’t ask about it.

But Jack had picked up his hand again, frowning at the nascent bruises. “Bad landing, huh, kid?” He paused, but Mac didn’t respond. “Where else you hurt?”

Mac thought about it for a minute. The fall had happened so fast that he’d barely had time to register a jolt of pain, disproportionate to the distance he’d fallen. Ah. The ulnar nerve.

He lifted his left elbow, obligingly rolling up his sleeve so Jack could see for himself that he’d just bumped his funny bone. Jack brushed his thumb over Mac’s elbow and muttered something under his breath about his accident-prone kid always getting a new boo-boo, which almost made Mac laugh except that unexpectedly he also wanted to cry.

“Anywhere else?”

Jack had figured out the kid had fallen on his left side, so he moved his hand down the slender frame, palpating every few inches. Mac decided to tolerate this—it would be faster than trying to convince his dad he was unhurt. And he was surprisingly comfortable snuggled sideways into Jack’s arms, so he didn’t really care how long Jack made him sit there.

He hissed when Jack reached his hip. Hm, he hadn’t noticed that he’d taken most of his weight there when he’d fallen. Mac opened his eyes a slit and noticed his Rubik’s cube on the floor. The sharp corners would explain the pain that was suddenly demanding his attention.

Jack stopped, hand resting warm and gentle over what Mac was sure would be a spectacular bruise tomorrow. “Hey, kid. Can I see?”

Mac’s breath caught. He trusted Jack—of course he did—but still. He shook his head and tensed, knowing that hadn’t really been a question, knowing he didn’t have a choice, knowing his dad would make him—

“Okay, son, that’s fine.”

_What?_

“How about…well, I’m gonna finish checkin’ you out, and then I’ll leave, and maybe you can take a picture of that hip for me, yeah?”

Mac bit his lip. How could Jack always be so…so _nice_ to him?

When Jack’s hand got to his left knee and Mac jerked away, he immediately pulled up his pant leg, not wanting Jack to think he was being difficult. He felt Jack relax when he saw the knee was only a little red. It probably wouldn’t even bruise.

“Okay.” Jack’s hand had returned to Mac’s cheek, thumb and fingers curving around his ear. “You want me to leave now?”

_No._

Mac’s fingers curled in Jack’s shirt.

“Take your time, bud. I ain’t goin’ nowhere until you’re ready.”

Mac wondered, half-hysterically, if he would _ever_ be ready for Jack to leave. And then he realized there was an easy way to get him to stay, for a while at least.

He plucked at Jack’s shirt to make sure he had the man’s attention—as if Jack would be looking anywhere else. After another moment of hesitation, he lifted the hem of his pajama top so he could reach his waistband.

“You sure, kiddo? You don’t have to if it—if you don’t want to.”

That reassured Mac enough to convince him to continue. He carefully exposed his left flank, and the elastic band stretched easily, allowing him to uncover only what he needed to.

Jack didn’t touch, but he winced when he spotted the rapidly purpling square. At least the Rubik’s cube hadn’t drawn blood. “Gonna be technicolor tomorrow, huh, kid?”

Mac nodded, feeling oddly elated, as though something he’d been dreading had turned out to be nothing at all. He readjusted his clothes and dutifully performed the leg maneuvers Jack directed, proving that nothing was broken or sprained.

Jack let him settle again, tucking Mac’s head under his chin. “Glad you’re okay, kiddo. You still got a fever, but it doesn’t feel hotter. You feel any worse?”

Predictably, Mac shook his head. His throat was still killing him, he still had a headache, and he was still exhausted, but that wasn’t a change from earlier today. Apparently that icy shower hadn’t helped at all.

_Like that was such a great plan, dummy._

“Hey, I brought you something.” Jack suddenly remembered why he’d been on his way to Mac’s room when he’d heard the hoarse whimpering and then the crash of his son taking out a table on his way to the floor. He felt around until he found the thermos he’d dropped. “Here ya go.”

He held the thermos for Mac to drink. Mac took a sip, and his eyes widened. Jack had brought him coffee.

“Figured you hadn’t had any for a couple days. Probably goin’ through withdrawal.”

It burned his throat a little, but the heat felt good, and Jack had made it extra strong, just the way Mac liked it. Mac tried to drink more, but all too soon, he had to turn away. He buried his face in Jack’s shirt again and tried to sniffle quietly so Jack wouldn’t know he was crying.

Jack tightened the cap on the thermos and set it aside so he could put both arms around his son. They were silent for a while.

“Wanna talk about it?” Jack finally offered, when he thought Mac was in control of himself once more. He paused. “Okay, maybe not talk. Here.” He scrabbled through the detritus from the fallen nightstand, finding a pen and the note he’d left for Mac earlier. “Write on the back of this.”

Mac slowly took the pen, looking from the paper to his father’s face and back again. There was really only one thing he could write.

_Sorry._

Jack tried not to stiffen. “Now what are you apologizin’ for, son?” Knowing Mac, it could be anything.

Mac shook his head miserably.

“Uh-uh, kiddo, can’t leave me hangin’ like that. As far as I can tell, you ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for, so unless there’s something I don’t know about…”

_You don’t know what an awful person I am. You don’t know how I hide things from you and try to manipulate you and then expect you to make everything better. You don’t know how much I need you._

Mac could feel his eyes welling with tears, so he scribbled on the paper before his vision blurred too much.

_Taking care of me._

Jack couldn’t breathe for a full minute, feeling as though he’d been punched in the gut. He should have anticipated this. Mac thought he was a burden.

“Mac.” His tone was sterner than he’d intended, but he couldn’t help it. “Have I said or done somethin’ to make you think I don’t wanna take care of you?”

Mac appeared confused by the question.

“’Cause if I have, I apologize. It was wrong of me to give you that _totally false_ idea.”

Mac’s brow was still furrowed.

“Kid. I’m your dad. Taking care of you is my job.”

The sudden rigidity in Mac’s posture told Jack all he needed to know about the source of the kid’s nightmares. He gathered his son close so he could speak gently into his ear.

“But it isn’t just my job, son. Being your dad is the best thing in my whole life. There is nowhere I’d rather be than with you. No one I’d rather be with than you. Nothing I’d rather be doing than taking care of you. I love you, son, completely, forever, no matter what.”

Mac was breathing shallowly.

“You hearin’ me, kid?”

Mac tilted his head. He was hearing the voices again.

_He really means it._

_No, he doesn’t._

_Jack never lies to me._

_That you know of._

_No, he—_

_Be realistic, Angus. Why would anyone choose to keep you around?_

“Mac.” Jack shook the kid very slightly until the blue eyes snapped up, losing the distant glaze they’d had. “Hey, kid, that voice in your head, the one that sounds like James?”

Mac stared at Jack in astonishment.

“Tell that voice from me to _shut the hell up_.”

For the first time all day, the voices were silent.

 

~~~

 

Mac didn’t move for as long as he could, but finally, even with Jack holding him, he had to admit that he was getting cold. He realized with a guilty start that Jack was probably growing stiff sitting on the floor, and he pulled away too quickly, wincing at the lance of pain in his head. Jack’s hands were there immediately.

“Take it easy, bud. Go slow.”

“’M okay,” Mac said—at least, he tried to, but he was unable to produce any sound.

“Uh-huh. You wanna get in bed? Or you wanna go sit on the couch for a while, watch some TV?”

Mac wished he had the energy to do anything besides sleep, but he knew that wasn’t happening. He flapped a listless hand at the bed and let Jack help him up and onto the mattress.

Jack righted the nightstand and began picking up the things that had fallen on the floor. Mac watched, ashamed of his inability to help. Maybe it was Jack’s job to take care of him when he was sick, but it wasn’t his job to be the kid’s maid. It was Mac’s fault there was a mess. He should—

Jack caught his gaze and smiled, brown eyes warm and sincere, without a trace of recrimination or regret in them.

_Jack loves me. He tells me all the time. He loves me, completely, forever, no matter what. It must be true ‘cause he does nice things for me even when he doesn’t have to. He put marshmallows in my cocoa because he knows I like them. He made me coffee just to help me feel more normal. He—_

This calming recital was interrupted when Jack finished cleaning and took Mac’s hand, clearing his throat awkwardly, and Mac knew with instant clarity what he wanted to ask, and it occurred to him that perhaps Jack needed him just as much as he needed Jack.

Before Jack could speak, Mac lifted the blankets a fraction and pulled on Jack’s hand. It wasn’t much of an effort, but it was enough. Jack grinned broadly and settled onto the bed next to his kid, slipping an arm under the slender shoulders.

Nuzzled into Jack’s side, Mac knew he was only seconds from sleep, but he needed Jack to know one thing first. Reaching for the paper and pen would take too much energy, so Mac improvised. He tapped Jack’s chest to get his attention, and then slowly traced three letters on Jack’s shirt.

_C._

_F._

_N._

The last thing he saw before slipping into slumber was Jack beaming like a lighthouse as he said, “I love you too, son.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: For a short section in this chapter, Mac is a little bit in bratty-teenager mode, which I am attributing to the fact that he feels horrible.
> 
> Note: Some slight references to [**Ground Rules**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17594054), but it is probably not necessary to read that one to understand this one.

**_Monday_ **

“Mac?”

Mac groaned as he rolled over. He was exhausted, even after sleeping for—he checked the bedside clock—sheesh, almost twelve straight hours. How could anyone still be tired after that?

“Son? Sorry to wake you, but we gotta check your temperature, remember?”

The memory came back with the force of the icy shower he’d had yesterday, and Mac sat up quickly, regretting the action immediately as his vision swam. Jack was at his side in a second.

“Easy there, kiddo. Take your time.”

Mac waved Jack away. “’M fine. Better today. No doctor.”

He tried to duck away from the hand that landed on his forehead, but he was too dizzy to move fast enough, and it was too late anyway. Jack was frowning.

“Think we need a second opinion there, hoss. You remember our deal. Third straight day of fever, and you go see a doctor.”

Mac wanted to complain that this wasn’t much of a deal since he hadn’t really been in any shape to negotiate, but his throat was so sore that his earlier efforts at speaking had left him feeling like he had shards of broken glass in his larynx. He shook his head mutely, which Jack predictably ignored.

“Here.” Jack handed him the digital thermometer, noticing that Mac was able to hold it without dropping it, so he was at least mostly in control of his limbs today. But Jack already knew the kid’s fever was no better. “I’ll get you something to drink and be right back.”

Mac stared at the little blinking degree symbol for a moment. His sluggish brain was recalling random information about the sensors in oral thermometers, and a half-forgotten memory of Bozer telling him about faking a fever to get out of school one day rose slowly to the surface. If the thermometer could be tricked into reporting a higher temperature, it could also be fooled into a lower one. Lowering the fever itself hadn’t worked yesterday, but _reporting_ the temperature was a different story.

When Jack returned and held out his hand for the thermometer, Mac hid his triumphant expression.

“Ninety-nine point one.” Jack’s eyebrows rose. “That’s…quite a change from yesterday, bud.”

“Said I was better,” Mac croaked, feeling rather victorious that he was able to take the drink from Jack and hold it himself.

“That you did.” Jack studied the kid for a minute, but Mac pretended that drinking the Gatorade required his full attention so he didn’t have to meet his gaze. “Son.” Jack moved closer and spoke gently. “You know what happens when you lie to me, right?”

Mac stopped drinking and looked up, startled.

“Now I know you would never lie to me, so I figure this thermometer must be broken,” Jack continued. “How ‘bout I go see if I can find another one, and while I’m doing that, maybe you can fix this one, huh, kid?”

Mac bit his lip and nodded, meekly accepting the instrument and placing it under his tongue. How had this ever worked for eight-year-old Bozer? Oh, wait. Maybe Bozer had said he’d _tried_ , not that he’d succeeded. Hmm. Was his brain really that foggy?

In the hallway, Jack was shaking his head as he pulled out his phone. A more energetic Mac apparently meant a more scheming Mac, and while the thermometer stunt wasn’t nearly up to par for his baby genius, Jack could already tell he would have his hands full today. An annoyed teenager was an _annoying_ teenager, and even though Jack had been warning him for two days that he’d probably be seeking medical attention, Mac wasn’t going to like it.

After speaking to a clerk at the family doctor’s office, Jack took a deep breath and opened Mac’s door. Mac was glaring at the thermometer in his hands, his expression a dark thundercloud that did not bode well for his behavior this morning.

“Get it working?”

Mac lurched back, almost dropping the thermometer. Geez, it was creepy how Jack could sneak up on him like that. Although that was probably just the fever muddling his concentration.

Mac reluctantly showed Jack the new temperature. One hundred one point five. Higher than yesterday. There was no way he was getting out of this doctor visit. His frown deepened. Life wasn’t fair.

“Okay, kid.” Jack’s voice was still soft, but it was firm. “I know you don’t wanna, but I just called, and they can fit you in this morning. We have to leave in about an hour, all right?”

Mac shook his head, even though he knew the protest would do no good. Jack would force him to go. Jack wasn’t fair either.

Jack sighed. “Sorry, kid. Not up for debate.”

He sounded so matter-of-fact, with just a hint of regret, that Mac felt a surge of anger.

“You don’t care what I want,” he snarled, as much as he could with his throat on fire. “Don’t care about me.”

Jack forced himself to pause before responding. All he needed right now was to get sucked into an argument with an overly dramatic teenager. Mac had curled his legs up to his chest and was hugging his knees, but Jack couldn’t tell if he was still pouting or if he felt bad about his outburst.

It didn’t matter. Jack had already decided the kid was getting a pass on just about anything he said or did today, no matter how exasperating.

He toed off his shoes and sat down on the bed. Mac didn’t look up.

“C’mere, kid.” Jack shifted so he could tug the armadillo-like ball of Mac to his chest and wrap his arms around his son.

Mac remained rigid, not pulling away, but clearly not accepting the embrace either.

“It’s all right,” Jack murmured. “We got time.”

Jack waited patiently. The kid had a stubborn streak a mile wide, but so did Jack, and with the way Mac was feeling, the man figured he had the advantage today. So he held on, feeling the heat from Mac’s fever, the tension in the kid’s muscles, the palpable anger and hurt and fear and—yes— _betrayal_ that the boy would never voice.

He waited, not saying a word, and finally he felt Mac lean into him, just a little.

He began stroking the kid’s hair with one hand, not noticing that he had started rocking back and forth very slightly. “I know you’re scared,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, buddy, but we have to go, and I’ll be right there with you the whole time, okay?”

“Not scared.” Mac’s voice was hoarse, but Jack shook his head at the dogged protest. “Just…don’t wanna go.”

“Okay.” Jack didn’t know, not for sure, where the distaste for the healthcare profession came from. Between the sketchy medical records from the past ten years and what little Jack knew of Mac’s mom’s passing, there were plenty of possibilities. “But you understand why you have to go, right?”

Mac was still sulking, even as he pressed closer to Jack, shivering a little. “’Cause you said so.”

Jack barely refrained from rolling his eyes at the resentful tone. “Yeah,” he sighed, “but that ain’t the real reason, and you know it. C’mon, son, even with a fever scrambling that big ol’ brain of yours, you’re still twice as smart as most people.” He grabbed a blanket to drape around the kid to help combat the chills.

Mac just grunted in response, loosening his grip on his knees as he curled into Jack. After a long silence, he finally mumbled, “Sorry.”

Jack rested his cheek on the burning forehead. “I know. It’s okay. But how ‘bout we agree on no temper tantrums at the doctor’s office. You hear me?”

Mac didn’t have the energy to protest that he wasn’t throwing a tantrum, that he wasn’t a little kid, that he knew how to behave in public. He felt so miserable he just wanted to go back to sleep and hope that this was all a bad dream.

“Mac? You still with me, bud?”

Mac gave a half-nod which turned out to be more of a twitch against Jack’s shirt, but at least it was some sort of response.

“We need to leave in half an hour, kiddo. Need me to help you get dressed?”

It took a minute to sink in, but the delayed reaction was what Jack had anticipated. Mac sat up. “No!”

Jack tried not to laugh at the weary attempt at indignation. “Okay, kid, it’s okay. If you can do it yourself, I’ll stay outta your way, all right?”

The flush across the kid’s cheeks might have been fever, but Jack was pretty sure the bright red ears were embarrassment.

“I can—can—” Mac stopped, rumbling a cough that meant it was really too painful to talk.

“All right. I’ll leave you to it, then. Hey, you’re not falling asleep again, right? Let me see you out of bed.”

It took some doing and was laced with several glassy-eyed glares, but Mac was finally upright and, after waiting a few minutes for the dizziness to subside, able to walk toward the bathroom under his own power, grabbing a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt on the way.

 

~~~

 

When they reached the fancy new medical complex that sort of made Jack long for his own childhood doctor with his simple office, Mac stumbled out of the truck on his own without arguing, for which Jack was grateful. He wanted to put an arm around the kid both to reassure him and to help him walk a straight line, but he didn’t want Mac to feel like he was being pushed any more than he already did, so he just stayed close.

As they reached the automatic doors, Jack recognized the woman exiting, guiding a petite teenaged girl, as a mom he’d met at some parent-teacher night at Mac’s school. He caught her eyes, and they exchanged sympathetic smiles. Both teenagers were doing their best impressions of zombies and didn’t appear to notice there was anyone else around.

“Guess somethin’s goin’ around your school,” Jack said quietly as they entered, but Mac didn’t seem to hear him.

Jack settled Mac in a chair as far from the other waiting patients as possible, but _man_ , there were a lot of people. The majority of them, Jack noticed, around Mac’s age. He grimaced.

Mac turned away when Jack offered him the clipboard, so Jack filled out the information himself and returned the paperwork to the front desk. When he sat back down, he deliberately draped his arm over their shared armrest, looking to any passers-by as though he were just casually taking up more than his fair share of the connected seats. But after only a second, he felt Mac’s fingers latch onto the underside of his sleeve. The kid had figured out no one else could see, and Jack was thankful, as he often was, that Mac was so quick on the uptake.

“Want me to go back with you? Or stay here?” Jack asked quietly. “It’s totally up to you.”

He watched the internal debate wrestle across Mac’s face. But finally pride won, and Mac shook his head. “Can…myself.”

“Okay. That’s fine, son. Just remember that Doc B has to tell me anything she tells you, so don’t worry if you can’t remember everything she says.” He left the _and don’t try to tell me she said you were fine_ unspoken.

Jack wished he could do more to soothe both Mac and himself, but he knew the kid’s limits in public. Jack was already lucky that Mac put up with the affection he lavished on him while they were at home, usually accepting Jack’s touch blithely, rarely pushing the man away—but even more rarely instigating contact without invitation. Jack was pretty sure this was just because Mac had been conditioned for so many years not to seek physical interaction, so he tried to be the one to make the first move, but sometimes he worried that it meant more to him than to Mac. He needed his son like he needed oxygen. What would he do if anything ever happened to this kid who had become the center of his world?

When Mac’s name was finally called, the kid slowly released his grip on Jack’s sleeve, and Jack couldn’t resist catching his fingers very briefly, fast enough that none of the other patients would notice. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Jack thought Mac aimed a tiny, grateful glance his way, and that was enough. Mac might never say it explicitly, but Jack didn’t need his words. He just needed to be there for his son, and he vowed he always would be.

 

~~~

 

Jack wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Mac was even closer to comatose when he finally reappeared in the waiting room than when he’d gone back. Of course, he’d probably had to sit in the exam room by himself for close to forty-five minutes, judging by how long he’d been gone. Jack had watched the flurry of activity behind the front desk and the constant traffic in and out of the waiting area. The medical staff looked like they were being run off their feet.

He stood immediately and made his way through the maze of chairs over to Mac, who was shuffling after Dr. Buddhdev’s nurse. She looked tired, but she still smiled at Jack, handed over Mac’s checkout paperwork, and explained that someone from the office would call within the next day or two with lab results. She offered a sympathetic smile to Mac along with a few quiet words about staying hydrated and rested, and Jack appreciated her professionalism and kindness even on a day that had to be exhausting.

The kid was shivering a little, and Jack regretted not insisting that he wear more than a lightweight hoodie. When they got to the parking lot, he didn’t even try to resist draping an arm around Mac, who huddled closer. Jack turned up the heat in the truck, not caring that this made it warmer than was comfortable for himself.

“We’re just gonna make one stop, all right?” This was said more to himself than to Mac, since he was certain the kid wasn’t paying attention to their route or to Jack.

Jack pulled into the lot at Larry’s Diner. “I’ll leave it running, okay? I’ll be right back. Just gonna see if Sara can put together some soup for ya.”

Mac sagged against the window, apparently deciding this information had nothing to do with him.

True to his word, Jack was back within ten minutes, carrying a fragrant, steaming bag. It smelled good enough that Jack heard his stomach growl, and even Mac turned his head slightly.

“Know what Sara said? Sounds like Katie’s got the same bug you got. Sleeping all the time, running a fever, sore throat. Practically an epidemic going on.”

Mac twitched one shoulder, unable to rouse any sympathy for a fellow sufferer, no matter how much he usually liked her.

At home, Jack guided Mac to the living room to sit on the couch while he went to the kitchen for a bowl and spoon. By the time he returned, Mac was fast asleep.

“Mac? Buddy, you wanna eat something before you sleep some more?” Jack gently nudged a bony shoulder, was rewarded with a sleepy grumble, and decided not to force the issue yet. Let the kid nap for a while. He slid a pillow under Mac’s head and gathered some blankets, tucking them in carefully. Mac’s fingers curled into the soft fleece, and he snuggled deeper into his nest.

Jack found he had no desire to walk away, hypnotized by the slow rise and fall of Mac’s chest. He reached out a hand, resting it for a moment on the burning face, and for the first time, it occurred to him that whatever virus Mac had must be incredibly infectious. Maybe he should take precautions. Of course, it was probably too late, considering how close he’d been sticking to Mac the last few days.

He looked down at the sleeping boy and decided the risk was totally worth it.

 

~~~

 

When Jack walked into the living room later, trying and failing to act as though he were just passing through for no particular reason, and certainly not to check on the kid under the mound of blankets on the couch, he stopped short at Mac’s frustrated sigh. Ready to launch into a lecture about how it was his job to worry about the kid and he didn’t need any grief for doing his job, Jack caught himself upon realizing Mac was glowering not at his father, but at the iPad he’d pulled from its place on the end table.

Mac’s forehead was furrowed as he squinted at the tablet, the lines on his face deep enough to make Jack cringe. The kid had to have a killer headache.

“Hey, bud.” He spoke softly to keep from exacerbating the pain. “Maybe put that down for a while and just rest, huh?”

Glazed blue eyes slowly traveled up to meet Jack’s.

“Looks like one hell of a headache, son. Playing with your electronic doohickey can’t be helping.”

Mac scowled and huffed. When Jack raised his eyebrows, Mac turned the tablet so Jack could see that he wasn’t watching a video or playing a game.

“Gotcha. That’s your homework, right? You had to read something for English class?”

Mac nodded, blenched at the movement, and dropped his head back onto the pile of pillows.

“Well…” Jack wavered. Mac’s schoolwork had always been a delicate topic, at least from Jack’s perspective. He knew anything less than perfect grades had been met with harsh consequences from James, and Jack never wanted to make the kid feel like his worth was dependent on some letter. Plus, Jack could see how eager Mac was to study and explore on his own, outside of school, and he didn’t figure grades were the most important measure of learner success.

On the other hand, he wanted to encourage Mac to do his best, even when he had to do something that didn’t interest him, and he certainly expected the kid to respect his teachers, even when the young genius disagreed with them. Jack always felt a little awkward when he went to Mac’s school for parent nights, but so far, Mac seemed better at handling the balancing act than Jack did.

So now Jack was faced with a dilemma. He didn’t think Mac would be up for going to school tomorrow, but saying so would probably just elicit more pouting. So did he tell the kid he could have a pass on finishing his homework for now, or watch him suffer eye strain when he already felt awful?

But as so often happened, Mac had a solution. He held out the iPad in Jack’s direction.

It took Jack a second to catch on. “You want _me_ to read it?”

Mac gave the slightest of nods, eyes already sliding shut.

Jack took the tablet before it fell from the kid’s grasp, but he scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, I don’t know, kid. Not much of a storyteller, you know.”

Mac squinted up at him and frowned. That was only partially true, and Jack knew it. Jack could spin a yarn with the best of them—and frequently did, which Mac enjoyed more than he would admit—but only when the story was something that he had personally seen or experienced. Mac had heard plenty of tales of Jack’s youth, his Army days, some of the funnier moments with recalcitrant horses…but when Jack attempted to relate someone else’s story, it went completely to pieces.

The one and only time Mac had outright lied to his father since the adoption, apart from the semiconscious attempt with the thermometer this morning, Jack had apparently determined that a suitable punishment was sitting through a recitation of “The Boy Who Cried Wolf,” complete with poorly made sock puppets. Mac thought the fable was a little on the nose until about the third line when Jack went off script.

By five minutes in, Mac was hopelessly confused, and he was sure Jack wasn’t any clearer about where the story was going. It was pretty obvious that Mac was represented by the boy in the story, but he guessed from the exaggerated Texan accent that Jack had assigned himself the role of the wolf, which made no sense. And since when did the wolf have a speaking part?

When the wolf burst into song for no discernible reason, Mac couldn’t take it anymore. “Jack, stop,” he begged. “Just stop it.”

“Don’t interrupt,” Jack growled, still in character.

“Jack.” Mac felt like pulling his hair out. “I’m sorry. I won’t ever lie to you again, okay? I promise.”

There was a pause, and then Jack lifted the sock with angel-hair spaghetti duct-taped to the top. “He promised that too.”

Mac was ready to say or do almost anything to stop the puppet torture. “I swear, Jack. It was dumb, and I should’ve told you the truth, and I _swear_ I’ll never lie to you if you just _never try to tell that story_ again.”

Jack tipped his head, but a ghost of a smile was playing on his lips.

“I’ll write it out, okay? The real version, not…” Mac waved a hand at whatever _this_ was.

Jack was silent, but he had lowered the puppets.

“Three times. By hand. Full text.”

The socks twitched.

“ _Five_ times! And…I’ll clean out the garage this weekend. Okay?”

Jack finally nodded. “All right, son. But the puppets stick around just in case.”

Mac made a strangled sound. “Please burn them.”

“Hey, don’t hate on the puppets! These are works of art!” But Jack had grinned and mussed Mac’s hair, and the kid hadn’t seen the smelly sock puppets since.

So Jack was more than a little surprised that Mac was asking his father to read for him, especially whatever book he’d been assigned in his literature class. Didn’t they have apps for that now?

He opened his mouth to suggest that, looked down at the pale face with the cheeks still flushed with fever, and changed his mind.

“All right. Scoot over.” He removed one of the pillows, folded himself into a corner of the couch, and arranged the other pillows across his legs, pulling Mac a little closer. The kid did an admirable job of pretending not to notice that his upper body was now lying in Jack’s lap.

“What was it you had to read?” Jack found his reading glasses on the end table and stabbed at the iPad to check the title page. “Seriously? _The Odyssey_? You want me to get a headache too?”

Mac’s eyes opened tiredly.

Jack sighed. “Okay, kiddo, but I’ll probably only understand about one out of every ten words.”

The blue eyes narrowed in a glare. “Stop. Not true.” The hoarse voice sounded so rough that Jack winced, reached for a bottle of juice perched on the coffee table, and held it so Mac could drink. Mac turned away after only a sip, so Jack unwrapped a cough drop and coaxed it between the kid’s lips.

“All right,” he murmured, smoothing the blankets down. “We’ll give it a try.” He lifted the tablet.

As dawn came into the lodge, the king and loyal swineherd

set out breakfast, once they had raked the fire up

and got the herdsmen off with droves of pigs.

And now Telemachus…

           

“Wait. Who’s this Tel person?”

Without opening his eyes, Mac croaked, “Son.”

“Oh. The main guy’s son?”

Mac was reasonably sure that Jack knew the “main guy” was Odysseus, so he nodded.

“Okay.”

the howling dogs went nuzzling up around him,

not a growl as he approached. From inside

Odysseus noticed the pack’s quiet welcome,

noticed the light tread of footsteps too

and turned to Eumaeus quickly, winged a word:

           

“And who’s this other guy?”

Mac lifted his hands in frustration, unable to explain in the one word he might manage through his ravaged throat.

“Okay, never mind. Not important. If you know who he is, that’s what matters. You’ve read the rest of this, right? You’re not just starting in the middle for no reason?”

Mac opened his eyes at that, wondering if asking Jack to read had been such a good idea.

“All right, settle down.” Jack lifted the iPad again and used his other hand to card through the kid’s hair, which produced a contented sigh.

“Eumaeus, here comes a friend of yours, I’d say.

Someone you know, at least. The pack’s not barking,

must be fawning around him. I can hear his footfall.”

 

“Good logic,” Jack approved in an undertone. Mac’s eyes were closed again, and his breathing was evening out.

The words were still on his lips when his own son

stood in the doorway, there. The swineherd started up,

amazed, he dropped the bowls with a clatter—he’d been busy

mixing ruddy wine.

 

“They’re having wine for breakfast?”

Mac quirked a faint smile, but it might have been in response to the thumb stroking his temple instead of Jack’s commentary.

Straight to the prince he rushed

and kissed his face and kissed his shining eyes,

both hands, as the tears rolled down his cheeks.

As a father, brimming with love, welcomes home

his darling only son in a warm embrace—

 

Jack stopped to clear his throat, looking down at his only son, who was just a whisper away from sleeping.

what pain he’s borne for him and him alone!—

home now, in the tenth year from far abroad,

so the loyal swineherd hugged the beaming prince,

he clung for dear life, covering him with kisses, yes,

like one escaped from death. Eumaeus wept and sobbed,

his words flew from the heart: “You’re home, Telemachus,

sweet light of my eyes! I never thought I’d see you again,

once you’d shipped to Pylos! Quick, dear boy, come in,

let me look at you, look to my heart’s content—

under my own roof, the rover home at last.

 

Jack blinked rapidly and sniffed. Dumb book. Good thing Mac was making that adorable whooshing sound that meant he was fast asleep. He could stop reading.

Aloud, anyway.

He propped his feet on the coffee table, careful not to disturb the sleeping kid in his lap, rested one hand over Mac’s heart, and leaned back against the cushions, iPad in the other hand.

There were worse ways to spend the afternoon.

 

~~~

 

Later that evening, when Mac awoke dry and achy but more alert, Jack shook himself out of a doze and went to reheat the soup from the diner. To his surprise, Mac trailed after him into the kitchen, the blanket around his shoulders dragging behind him.

“Feelin’ better, huh, kiddo?”

Mac nodded tiredly and accepted the water Jack handed him. Then he had to wait to drink while Jack felt his forehead.

“Think your fever’s finally comin’ down. Keep it up and pretty soon you’ll be good as new.”

Mac looked around vaguely, noticing Jack only had one bowl on the counter.

“Y—” He took another drink and tried again. “Yours?”

Jack followed his gesture. “I’ll eat later, kid. Wanna get you fed first.”

Mac’s face slid into a frown. “Can self.”

Jack studied him. He did seem stronger, in the same way that week-old kittens were stronger than newborns.

“You wanna string your own bow? Okay, sit down, and we’ll try it.”

Mac sat, perplexed by this new aphorism. Jack caught the look.

“Oh, sorry, kid, you haven’t gotten that far yet. Never mind.”

Mac felt a laugh starting in his belly, but he tried to contain it. “You read… _Odyssey_?”

Jack looked sheepish enough that Mac couldn’t help the laugh that burst out. After a moment, Jack grinned. He’d missed hearing the kid’s laugh.

“Yeah, well, not sure what else I was supposed to do when _someone_ fell asleep on top of me after the first page,” he snapped without heat. “Here. Eat your soup.”

Still giggling softly, Mac picked up the spoon, feeling actual hunger for the first time in days.

Jack heated a bowl for himself and joined Mac at the kitchen table, pushing the water closer so Mac would remember to drink in between bites.

The soup was heavenly—one of Sara’s specialties—and Mac forced himself to continue until he had finished the bowl, even though he was tired again halfway through. Thinking about Sara reminded him that Jack had said something earlier…

“Katie…sick?”

“Yeah, bud. That’s what Sara said when I talked to her today.”

“Same…me?”

“Sounds like it. That must be one powerful flu bug, kiddo.”

Mac frowned, thinking. “Not…school.”

Jack considered for a while, trying to catch up, realizing that with Mac feeling a little better, the kid was once again three steps ahead of him.

“Oh! You mean little Katie doesn’t go to your school.” Jack took in the guilt creeping into Mac’s eyes, and then he understood. “So you think _you_ gave her the flu.”

Mac dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Mac. Kid, look at me. Even if that’s true, it isn’t your fault. And it isn’t the end of the world. I know you’ve been pretty miserable for a couple days, but you’re gonna be fine, and so is she.”

 _It kind of_ is _my fault, though. I knew something was wrong almost a week ago, and I didn’t say anything, ‘cause if I did, Jack would’ve made me cancel movie night, and Katie was really looking forward to it. Yeah, and I was looking forward to it, too._

“Mac?” The kid was staring at the floor again, so Jack crouched next to his chair so he could catch his eyes. “Kid, it’s really okay,” he murmured. “Doc B didn’t seem to think it was dangerous, right?”

Mac offered a confusing mix of gestures that could have been agreement, denial, or uncertainty.

 _That’s the whole reason Jack_ has _that rule, you idiot._

_Well, it’s actually to keep ME safe, but not infecting others is a side benefit._

Great. The voices were back.

_Uh-huh. And how’d that work out for you, stupid?_

“Mac? You with me, bud?” Jack had taken both Mac’s hands in his own.

Mac took a deep breath. “Jack…”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Sorry.” Mac had to bite his quivering lips before he could continue. “Broke…rule two. Sorry.”

Jack sighed, squeezing the kid’s hands while he looked away. He didn’t think either of them really had the energy for this discussion right now, but he couldn’t leave Mac looking so ashamed of himself.

“Son, I don’t think it’s as cut and dried as all that.”

Mac looked up.

“You were feelin’ kinda tired last week, right? A little rundown?”

Mac nodded.

“Which could have lots of reasons. Doesn’t necessarily mean there’s somethin’ wrong, so I can see why it’d be hard to know if you should say anything. When did the sore throat start?”

Guilt flashed across the kid’s face. “Thursday—night.”

“While your friends were here?” Jack scrubbed a hand across his face. “Okay, that’s not great, but you did say something within 24 hours, which is a huge improvement over not telling me at all.”

Mac shook his head. “Wouldn’t—again.”

“I know, son.” Jack shuddered, remembering the last time Mac had attempted to hide an injury. “But this isn’t that. It’s harder to tell when a bug like this starts creeping up on ya, right?”

Mac tilted his head. Was Jack really going to let him off the hook?

“I’m not entirely blameless here either, kiddo.”

Mac’s eyebrows knitted together.

“I could have said somethin’ earlier last week, but…well, I _should_ have, that’s all there is to it. So how ‘bout we just make some adjust—some clarifications to rule two?”

Mac knew what his dad was going to say. “Tell you…even small.”

“That’s right. Right away, not a day later, got it? And I’m gonna do a better job of askin’, and you’re gonna tell me the truth when I do, right? Even if it means you might miss out on somethin’ with your friends?”

Mac nodded.

“Okay. That’s good, buddy.” Jack began to rise and then reconsidered. “Anything else you wanna get off your chest?”

Mac started to shake his head and then paused. “Sorry…mean stuff ‘s morning.”

“Mean stuff?”

“Said…you didn’t care.”

Jack laughed. “Oh, that. Yeah, you were kinda bein’ a brat this mornin’, bud.” He looked at the kid fondly. “But even on your worst days, you’re nothin’ like the terror I was at your age, so I figure I’m ahead of the game.” Jack reached out to cup the kid’s face with one hand, thumb stroking his cheek. “’Sides, you made up for that already. That book was pretty good, y’know? Had some good fight scenes. Maybe you should let me read to you more often.”

_Stupid little kid, wishing your dad would tuck you in and read you bedtime stories…_

_Shut up. Sometimes wishes do come true._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excerpts are from Book XVI of the Robert Fagles translation of Homer's _The Odyssey_ , available [here](https://archive.org/stream/pdfy-T2WaiIPwOMJF1pR3/Homer-The-Odyssey-Fagles_djvu.txt).
> 
> "The Boy Who Cried Wolf" is one of Aesop's fables, available, among other places, [here](https://etc.usf.edu/lit2go/35/aesops-fables/375/the-boy-who-cried-wolf/).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some minor original characters in this chapter (Cassi and her family). Pepper is borrowed from dickgrysvn's [**Stablehands + Stable Homes**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294171) (as are Katie and everyone at Larry's Diner). Mac's coffee addiction is also from that work.

_**Tuesday** _

“Where exactly do you think you’re going?”

Mac wheeled around, just managing to catch himself with the doorknob before falling. Out of habit, his heartrate accelerated at being caught, but he reminded himself that this was Jack, and Jack sounded genuinely curious, not upset.

“Bus?” The word came out inadvertently as a question.

A lazy smile stretched across Jack’s face. “Well, I’m sure glad you’re feelin’ better, bud, but normally, people who want to catch the bus wear two shoes.”

Mac was about to retort that of _course_ he was wearing shoes, but he looked down at his feet and noticed that while his left foot sported his usual sneaker, his right foot was clad in a fuzzy Wookie-paw slipper. Hm, also, one sock was white and one was gray.

He shrugged. “Easy fix.”

Jack looked amused. “Yeah? What’s it gonna take to fix that rat’s nest you call hair? And minty-fresh breath is great, son, but usually you don’t smear the toothpaste all over your face.”

Jack stepped closer and scrubbed at Mac’s chin with his thumb, lifting it so Mac could see the crumbling white paste.

“Made your point,” Mac grumbled, looking down at his feet again. “Stop.”

Jack forced himself not to laugh. “All right, kid, I’m not pickin’ on ya. Well, not much, anyway. Just wish you wouldn’t be so bullheaded ornery sometimes, tryna rush forward before you’re ready.”

Mac’s head snapped up, and he pointed at himself, gaping. “ _Me_ _?_ ” Jack opened his mouth, but Mac had more energy today and was quicker. “Like father, like son?”

As he’d known it would, this comment defused Jack’s incipient tirade faster than anything else could. He choked back whatever he’d been about to say and grinned. “Got me there, kiddo. C’mon, let’s get you back to bed.”

Mac shook his head. “Better today. Throat is…better.”

“Sure, you sound like a chorus of little birdies.” Jack had to admit that Mac did look significantly improved. “Did you check your temperature this morning?”

Mac shuffled his feet. “Uh-huh. Under a hundred.”

“How much under a hundred?”

Very quietly, Mac admitted, “Ninety-nine nine.”

“Headache?”

“Gone,” Mac said quickly. Then he ducked his head again. “Mostly.”

Jack sighed. “Kid, you gonna fight me if I tell you that you’re not goin’ to school today?”

Mac didn’t look up. “No.” He felt Jack moving closer, and he was compelled to ask, “Be different if I did?”

Jack huffed in surprise and then smiled. “No. Just save me the trouble of givin’ you a time-out.”

Mac rolled his eyes at the perpetually idle threat.

“Seriously, bud, I’m glad you’re feelin’ better, and I know you wanna get back into your routine, but one more day off ain’t gonna kill ya.”

“One more?”

Trust the little genius to pounce on the weak spot.

“You know I can’t guarantee that, kiddo.”

Mac made a dissatisfied noise.

“I know. I’m sorry. But how about gettin’ back in bed now?”

“Not sleepy.”

Jack had a moment to wonder if this were accurate or wishful thinking, and then Mac brightened.

“Stable with you!”

For a long minute, Jack was tempted. Seeing Mac alert and ready to do something, _anything_ besides sleeping, made him realize how much he missed having the kid around the stable. Mac didn’t work every evening, but he usually worked at least one day over the weekend, and the horses had seemed more subdued without their golden boy. Okay, maybe that was Jack projecting. Except for Pepper. She was definitely giving Jack knowing looks, certain he was keeping her favorite human away from her.

Mac could tell his dad was considering it. “Won’t work,” he pressed. “Just…watch.”

It took all Jack’s willpower to shake his head. “Sorry, son. I know you’re feelin’ pretty good now, but you’ll—I’ll want you to try to take a nap in a while.”

“Office couch,” Mac pointed out.

Jack hesitated again. How often had he had to tell the kid no over the last few days? And really, if Mac was up to attempting to sneak out of the house—not a _good_ attempt, but it was an effort—what were the odds he would stay in bed and rest if Jack left him alone?

He crossed his arms, doing his best not to be swayed by the puppy-dog eyes pleading with him. “ _If_ I let you come with me—and that’s a big if—”

It was too late. Mac already knew he’d won, and he beamed brilliantly. “Five minutes.” He started to scamper back to his room to find his other shoe, but Jack snagged his shirt collar and pulled him back.

“Whoa, there, kid. We haven’t agreed on terms.”

Mac was careful not to roll his eyes. “No work. Rest. Sleep if tired. Tell you if worse.”

Jack blinked. “Okay, that’s…a good start.”

Mac scowled. What else would he have to promise?

“Did you eat breakfast before your little jailbreak attempt? And by the way, I think you’ve got it backwards. Most people try to get _out_ of school.”

Jack had an arm around the kid and was already leading him to the kitchen before Mac could protest. “And one cup of coffee does not count as breakfast. So tell me you had more than that, and I’ll let it go.”

“Two cups?”

Jack’s jaw dropped. He took in the gleam in Mac’s eyes, and he burst out laughing. His arm tightened around the kid in a gentle headlock, and he rubbed his knuckles in the wild blond hair. “Okay, Mr. Caffeine, sit down. We’ve got time for you to eat something before we go.”

Twenty minutes later, Mac had downed a few spoonfuls of cereal, found matching pairs of socks and shoes, and tamed his hair somewhat. Jack was whistling as they got into the truck, but he had decided to use the drive time to list his expectations.

“You can say hi to Pepper—she’s really been missin’ you—but that’s it. Then you sit down somewhere and just watch. Got it?”

Mac sighed.

“I mean it, kiddo. You so much as lift a brush, and it’s back home with you. Which reminds me, you’re not stayin’ all day. I’ve got a couple lessons this morning, and then I’m takin’ you home.”

Mac sighed more heavily.

“And I don’t want any arguing if I tell you to go lie down, all right? That couch has your name all over it.”

Mac was starting to wonder if this excursion was really worth it.

“Mac? You hear me?”

Mac sighed for the third time. “Yes, Jack.”

Jack pulled into his parking space and turned to face the kid. “I’m not tryin’ to make you feel bad, buddy. I’m…I’ve really missed you around here. The horses have too.”

Mac let the corners of his mouth turn up. “Me too.”

Pepper squealed the instant Mac walked in, and he made his way over to the mare as Jack headed for his office, trying to pretend he wasn’t watching the reunion of boy and horse. Mac petted the velvety nose and spoke quietly, while Pepper flicked her ears as though absorbing every word.

As instructed, Mac didn’t move from Pepper’s stall while Jack began the chores he hadn’t finished earlier this morning when he’d gone back to the house to check on his son. When Jack got near, he guided Mac to sit on a hay bale, attempting to distract the kid by babbling.

“Cassi’s the first lesson today. Boy, she’ll be surprised to see you. Was lookin’ all over for ya Saturday. Couldn’t seem to believe that you weren’t here. Guess she made somethin’ for ya. I told her you probably wouldn’t be back until next weekend, but I’m not sure she believed me. You know how she is when she gets somethin’ in her head. Almost as stubborn as someone else I know.”

Mac lifted his eyes sullenly.

“Hey, kid, I know you don’t want little Cassi to catch what you have. We don’t know how contagious it is, right?”

“Won’t get close,” Mac promised dully.

Jack nodded his approval.

“Can at least say hi?”

“I think you’ll have that chance, bud. Sounds like them now.” Jack looked up. “But then straight to the couch for a nap, understand?”

He walked forward to greet his student, not noticing Mac slipping into the office.

“Hey, how’s my favorite little star? Got a twinkle for me?” Jack held up his hand, and the eight-year-old girl beamed as they high-fived. “Nice to see you again, Helen. This your new little guy?” He nodded at the bundle of blankets in the woman’s arms. “Cute little dude.”

Cassi’s mom smiled a bit tiredly. “Good to see you too. I forgot how much time and energy a new baby takes.”

“Yeah, but you got a great little helper here, right?” Jack smiled down at the girl. “What’s your brother’s name, Cass?”

Cassi hummed for a minute, the new name still unfamiliar enough to need practice. After a few tries, she offered, “Percy.”

“Is that short for Perseus?”

Jack turned at Mac’s voice, missing Helen’s assent, and Cassi lit up, raced over to the teenager, and threw her arms around him. Mac hugged her back and then knelt in front of her.

“Matthias told me Mac wasn’t here for Cassi’s last lesson,” Helen murmured. “I told her he probably wouldn’t be here today, but she was sure she’d see him.”

“Yeah, he’s takin’ another day off school, just to be safe. He probably isn’t contagious by now, but I’ll tell him—”

Helen held out a hand. “No, he’s fine. You know how she adores him.”

A grin tugged at Jack’s lips. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Hey, Cassiopeia,” Mac sing-songed the name, holding the girl at arm’s length. He knew his dad was watching to make sure he kept his distance. “I have something for you.”

Behind her glasses, Cassi’s brown eyes sparkled. “Egg?”

“Yep. A _Star Wars_ one this time.” Mac produced the plastic-covered candy he’d retrieved from his stash in the office. Cassi snatched it from his hand, bouncing with excitement.

“Remember to give it to your mom to hold for you until later,” Mac cautioned.

Cassi hugged Mac again, chubby arms tight around his neck. “Tank you.”

Mac smiled. “You’re welcome, star.”

The girl seemed to remember something and dug in the front pocket of her overalls, finally pulling out what looked like a bit of wire. She held it out to Mac.

“For me?”

“Uh-huh.”

Mac took the paperclip shaped roughly into a star. “Wow, this is really good! Thank you!”

Cassi giggled as she raced back to her mom. Helen adjusted her grip on the sleeping baby to accept the candy her daughter held out for her. Mac followed more slowly.

“She’s been waiting to give you that for days. Been so excited ever since you showed her how to make them.”

Mac blushed slightly. Jack had that look on his face, the one that said he was bursting with pride and affection, and if Mac didn’t distract him quickly, he wasn’t sure what embarrassing thing Jack would do or say.

“How are Cassi’s glasses working out?”

“We’ve ordered some new frames from that company you told us about. But for now, the nose piece you made seems to be working.” Helen smiled down at her daughter, who no longer had her glasses perched at the very tip of her small, flat nose.

Mac looked down too, studying his handiwork critically, checking that the padded bridge wasn’t bothering the girl. Cassi was bright and communicated fairly well, but she didn’t always have the words to express when she was uncomfortable, nor could she always make others understand, so he wanted to be sure she wasn’t bothered by the change in weight and balance.

Cassi smiled up at her friend sunnily, her slanted eyes crinkling with happiness. Mac smiled back. The temporary fix he’d made for her glasses should hold until her new frames arrived, ones that would better fit her unique needs.

Mac looked back up at Cassi’s mom. “Can you tell Professor Stillwater that our science club is really looking forward to visiting him at the university?”

Helen nodded. “Matthias is looking forward to it, too. He’s already talking about which telescopes he’ll have you use and which evenings will be the best for viewing.”

“Well, that sounds like a conversation for another day,” Jack finally broke in. “Our little budding astronomer here needs to get some rest.”

Cassi frowned, grabbing Mac’s hand.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but Mac’s been sick. You want him to get better, doncha?”

The girl tipped her head to one side as though considering this, and Jack held her gaze, smiling softly. He cared about all his students, of course, but this one was something special. He’d been working with her twice a week like clockwork since she was five years old, when her parents thought equine therapy would be good for her physical development, and Jack had seen her blossom, especially after Mac had started working at the stable. Cassi liked to follow Mac around, and while Matthias or Helen never left during the girl’s lesson, they did allow her some time to hang out with her favorite teen.

“Mac…sick?” Cassi finally asked.

“N—” Mac started.

“Yeah,” Jack said at the same time, shooting the kid a look. “It’s time for Mac to take a little nap.”

Mac glared, but Cassi needed no further prompting. Keeping her hold on Mac’s hand, she began dragging him toward the office. Mac let himself be towed, while Helen gave Jack a look that apologized for her daughter’s pushiness, and Jack just grinned. The two adults followed their respective offspring.

Cassi went confidently through the open door and pushed Mac onto the couch.

“Okay, okay!” Mac held up his hands. “You win.”

Cassi grunted. “Sleep.”

She crossed her arms, looking about as dangerous as a baby owl, and stared at the teen.

Mac stretched out on the couch. “Look, I am, okay?”

Cassi nodded, making a satisfied sound.

“That was impressive,” Jack drawled, and the girl spun around clumsily. “Next time I need a babysitter for Mac, you’re hired, okay?”

He didn’t look to see the daggers he knew Mac would be shooting his way. “Ready to go get tacked up?” He held out his hand, but Cassi darted past him, eager to see her favorite pony. Jack shrugged and smiled, and Helen smiled back, following her daughter.

Jack turned to his son, who was clearly not sleeping, but was still sprawled on the couch. “Well, you heard the boss, kiddo. Better stay put.”

“Jack.” Mac shook his head.

Jack found a couple blankets and spread one over the kid, offering the other in place of a pillow. “Even if you can’t sleep, just rest there, okay? No gallivanting around?”

Mac wasn’t sure how Jack was defining _gallivanting_ —if Jack even knew himself—but he was actually a little tired, so he nodded.

Jack ran a hand through the tangled blond hair. Mac closed his eyes.

“You are amazing, kid. I am so proud of you.”

For the second time that morning, Mac felt himself blushing, and he didn’t open his eyes, not daring to look at the intense pride he knew would be on Jack’s face. He didn’t really know how to handle these types of compliments, but Jack didn’t force a response.

“I’ll be back in a few hours. Call if you need anything, okay?”

“’Kay.”

Jack turned off the office lights as he left, closing the door behind him, and Mac relaxed on the worn leather cushions. The stable felt almost as much like home as the house did, probably because it was the first place he’d met Jack.

This building held a lot of good memories. Mac remembered when Jack had taught him how to groom a horse, his touch gentle as he put his hands over the kid’s and showed him how to move the brush. Mac had still been wary of being too close to anyone, and his fumbling fingers kept dropping the brush, making Mac cringe every time. But Jack’s patience had never faltered; he kept encouraging and telling the kid what he was doing right, and his hands were feather-light as they guided Mac’s. It was the first time Mac could recall that he hadn’t been criticized for not immediately doing something right after a single explanation.

This office, too, was full of fond memories. Mac had been nervous the first time Jack called him in, conditioned to expect some sort of reprimand—for what infraction, he didn’t know—but Jack had been impressed with the kid’s strategy for finding rough spots in the wooden stalls and sanding them down and had wanted to ask Mac to make more of the gloves he was using. A bit shell-shocked at the unexpected praise, Mac had agreed, sitting on the couch at Jack’s direction and picking up a work glove to attach the cottony fluff that would catch on any splinters long before calloused fingers could detect them. He got lost in his work, not realizing Jack was still watching him, until he smelled the coffee Jack poured for himself and jerked his head up, nose twitching.

Jack saw the look. “You want some coffee, kid?”

Mac hesitated. He wasn’t allowed to have coffee at home, but James had never specifically said he couldn’t have it anywhere else. He nodded tentatively.

That was the first time Jack had brought him a mug of his favorite beverage, but Mac had lost count of the number of times it had happened since then, and Jack never chewed him out for being too distracted or jittery or for not paying enough attention. If anything, Mac’s coffee addiction seemed to entertain the man, and he’d always made sure there was a fresh pot brewing when Mac came to work.

When he’d moved in with Jack, coffee was the first thing in the kitchen he’d dared take without express permission. Now, of course, he knew he could help himself to anything, but back then, he’d been careful to eat and drink only what Jack offered him, until finally one morning he hadn’t been able to resist the pot practically screaming his name, and he’d gulped down the liquid as if it were ambrosia. If Jack noticed, he didn’t say anything, nor did he comment when he walked in one day as Mac was filling his mug. Jack didn’t seem to think there was anything out of the ordinary, and Mac realized that his definition of _normal_ and Jack’s definition weren’t necessarily the same.

Mac pulled the blanket a little closer around him. To Jack, it was totally normal to tuck a sick teen onto his couch while he went to work. It was totally normal to fuss over him and to hound him to eat and sleep and to fret about him doing too much before he was ready. It was totally normal for Jack to hug his kid, to pat his shoulder, to rub his back, to hold him as close as Mac would allow.

Maybe Mac had originally had a different definition of _normal_ , but he had to admit that Jack’s was better.

 

~~~

 

Mac awoke a couple hours later to find Jack sitting next to him, stroking his hair.

“Hey, there he is. Have a good nap?”

Mac grunted, blinking his crusty eyes, and tried to sit up. When he couldn’t make it past forty-five degrees and ended up back on the couch, Jack took his arm and helped pull him upright. Mac scrubbed his face with his hands, surprised he’d slept so hard.

Jack was sure there were few things cuter than Mac attempting to wake up, yawning, blinking, and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Except possibly Mac falling asleep, head bobbing, hair falling into his face, breathing slowing and deepening. Or Mac hard at work on a project, blue eyes laser-focused, expression intent, posture tense in that way that meant he expected a breakthrough any moment. Or Mac laughing, or wrinkling his nose in response to Jack’s joking, or smiling as he helped one of the kids onto a horse, or…

_Yeah, Dalton, you’ve got it bad._

But Jack wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Ready to go home, buddy?”

“Could stay,” Mac offered, a token protest to which Jack didn’t even bother to respond.

“Come on.”

Mac insisted he could walk into the house on his own, that Jack didn’t have to accompany him in, and after many unnecessary directives about not overdoing it, Jack let the kid out of the truck and returned to the stable.

Mac managed to avoid burning some toast and snapped a picture of the buttered triangles, forced himself to eat the entire slice of bread, and took another photo of the plate, empty save for a few crumbs. He sent them both to Jack, who responded instantly.

_Attaboy._

Alone in the house, Mac didn’t bother trying to disguise either his smile or the massive eye-roll at Jack’s constant obsession with the kid’s eating habits.

He considered his next move. Jack wouldn’t be home for a few hours, and he wasn’t sleepy again yet, so for the first time in days, he could do something other than laze around.

Mac thought about texting his friends, but when he’d tried that yesterday, Bozer had replied only with a sleeping emoji, Riley’s response had been an indecipherable keyboard mash, and Katie had apparently fallen asleep in the middle of her text, not noticing until several hours later than she’d sent Mac only “ok how,” completing the “how are you” when she awoke in the middle of the night.

Hmm. Maybe there wasn’t much he could do to help his friends right now, but he could create something for Katie that would make her smile. He wandered down to his lab, an idea already taking shape in his mind.

When Jack entered the house a few hours later, he did a quick sweep of the rooms to locate Mac, finally heading through the basement’s open door. He should have known the kid would get engrossed in something down there. He deliberately stomped his feet down the last few steps so as not to startle Mac if he were working on something delicate—having learned that the hard way—and the kid turned as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Jack!” Mac sounded excited. “Just in time! I—” Jack could see the exact moment doubt crept into the kid’s mind, wondering if he’d be in trouble for spending the afternoon in his lab. “I just finished,” he said quietly, more an apology than an announcement.

“Do I get to see? I bet whatever it is, I’ll be impressed.”

Mac took in his expression out of the corner of his eye and then relaxed. “Well, it’s just a little—I mean, I made something for Katie. You know, just like a get-well present,” he added hastily. He gestured to a small square box with a silver crank on one side.

“You made her a jack-in-the-box?”

Mac tilted his head.

Jack sighed. “Man, your generation missed out on all the good toys, didn’t ya? Anyway, fire it up. Let’s see this thing in action!” When Mac turned back to his creation, Jack darted a hand into his pocket for his phone.

“Okay, so you turn this…” Mac began twisting the crank. Through the openings in the top of the box, a shape slowly rose. From Jack’s perspective, it looked like a flower bud, but it was made of wire that had been painted green.

As the sculpture twisted through the slots, one by one, different sections of wire were jarred loose, falling open until finally a fully blossomed rose stood planted in the little box.

Jack’s mouth fell open, and he made a few incoherent noises. Mac turned, face alight, pleased with the response.

“Wow, kid. That is…incredible.”

Mac ducked his head. “Think she’ll like it?”

“Man, I think _anybody_ would like it. Just one question, though. How come the flower’s blue? Shouldn’t it be red?”

Mac fiddled with the crank. “She’s…kind of into _The Glass Menagerie_ right now. It mentions blue roses.” He didn’t say that Katie had conscripted him a few weeks ago to read opposite her as she was preparing for an upcoming presentation for her homeschooling group. Mac had suggested that Bozer would be a better acting partner, but Katie had assured him that her assignment was to write and deliver a monologue based on the play and that she just wanted to hear the words aloud to get inspiration.

“Uh, sure.” Jack was wondering if Mac realized the flower was the exact same shade of blue as his eyes. He was confident that Katie _would_ notice, which was probably a better reason for the color choice than whatever excuse Mac was making. “Well, it looks amazing, son. I’d say I can’t believe you whipped that up in one afternoon, but I’ve learned to stop being surprised by what you can do.”

Mac was blushing for the umpteenth time today, and Jack made a mental note that they needed to work on the kid learning how to accept accolades. The little genius would be receiving plenty of them, after all. His ruminations were interrupted when the phone in his hand rang.

“Hang on, kid, it’s your doctor.” Jack took a few steps away and answered.

Mac looked back down at his design, wondering if it needed a little more…something. He turned it from side to side, studying it from different angles, making minute adjustments to bits of wire to ensure they wouldn’t catch on dainty fingers.

“Well…that was the nurse…” Jack was speaking too slowly as he approached, his mouth performing odd contortions as though he were attempting to hold an entire watermelon in his mouth. “It ain’t the flu, kid.”

Mac raised his eyebrows, wondering why Jack didn’t just come out and say it.

“It’s—” Jack’s voice cracked, and he looked down at the floor for a minute, taking a few deep breaths.

“Yeah?” Mac finally prompted impatiently.

“It’s the kissing disease, man.”

Mac’s jaw dropped, and Jack released the pent-up mirth in a loud gust that—from Mac’s perspective—went on _way_ too long.

“You’ve got mono, Mac!” Jack practically howled between hoots of laughter.

Mac did not see the humor in the situation. “Jack—”

“Here I’ve been worryin’ about ya for days, and it’s really the ladies I should be lookin’ out for! My son is a little Casanova!” Jack laughed even harder.

Mac crossed his arms, waiting for Jack to wear himself out. He’d heard a rumor at school about one of the cheerleaders and a member of the wrestling team, but he made a point of not giving credence to gossip. Apparently this one time, the rumor mill may have gotten it right.

“No wonder you’re feelin’ guilty about little Katie.” If anything, Jack seemed to find it even more hilarious. “Hey, what about Riley and Bozer, though?” Jack attempted a serious expression, marred by a smirk. “I mean, I’m gonna support you no matter what, kid, you know that, so you love who you wanna love—”

Mac could feel himself flushing to the roots of his hair.

“But maybe just start out with one at a time, huh? Hey, we’ve never had a talk about the birds and the bees, have we?”

“Jack,” Mac groaned in agony.

“You probably studied it all in theory and everything, but experience counts too. You want me to—”

“Jaaaack.”

“’Cause maybe we need to talk about safe—”

“ _Jack_ ,” Mac cried, horrified, imagining the sock puppets Jack would slap together if this discussion ever happened. If Mac had anything to say about it, this topic would never, ever come up again. Ever.

“I mean, it looks like you’ve got more game than I figured, dude, but I could give you some—”

Mac clapped his hands over his ears. “La la la, I can’t hear you!” he shouted desperately.

Jack subsided into chuckles that shook his entire frame, eventually dropping a hand on Mac’s shoulder to keep himself upright. The kid was standing ramrod straight, arms crossed, glaring at his dad, but Jack hadn’t laughed this hard in ages.

“Okay, I’m done teasin’ ya,” he gasped finally, still snickering.

“You’re not, though,” Mac said flatly.

“No,” Jack agreed, fighting another attack of giggles as he took in Mac’s stony expression. “It’s just priceless, kid.”

“You know there are lots of ways to spread mono, right? The ‘kissing disease’ thing is a misnomer.”

“Whatever you say, man. Must be why people say _mono a mono_ , right?”

Mac rolled his eyes. “It’s _mano a mano_ , Jack. Hand to hand.”

“You can pass it just by holding hands? Geez, sounds like cooties!”

Logic was not going to end this bout of silliness. Mac’s shoulders drooped in defeat. He just needed to give Jack space to get all his bad jokes and horrible puns out, preferably without Mac having to listen to him. He headed for the stairs.

“Huh-uh, kid, you ain’t leavin’ yet.”

“Jack,” Mac pleaded.

“No, c’mere.” Jack was still grinning like an idiot, but his eyes had softened, and he pulled Mac into a hug. “I deserve this after worryin’ about your lady-killer self all weekend.”

Even though Jack was mostly kidding, Mac did feel bad for all the stress he’d caused, so he let Jack fold him close, ignoring the occasional chortle that escaped.

“You done?” he asked sourly when Jack had managed to go ninety seconds without laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, kid, I’m done.” But Jack’s lips were still twitching.

Mac needed to distract him. “Did the nurse say anything else? Anything, you know, _useful_?”

Jack sobered instantly. “If your fever’s gone and you’re feelin’ up to it, you can go back to school tomorrow. But I want you back to at least ninety percent before you try it, bud.”

The target number—along with the fact that it wasn’t one hundred—made Mac feel more positive.

“If I go back tomorrow…maybe I shouldn’t stay for science club?” He made the offer preemptively, knowing Jack probably wouldn’t let him attend anyway.

It had the desired effect. Jack regarded him proudly. “Good idea, son.”

Mac headed for the stairs again, and this time Jack let him, walking a step behind. “S’pose Katie knows it’s mono yet?” he asked softly, humor and concern warring in his voice.

Mac stopped so suddenly that Jack ran into him. _Oh, no._ He turned in a panic to face his dad.

“What do you—will she—do you think—what’ll—”

Jack cut into the floundering. “Hey, whoa, just breathe, kid. Take a breath. It’s okay.”

“But—what if—”

“Mac.” Jack put one hand on the kid’s shoulder and the other on his chest. “Deep breath. In and out. Good, just like that.”

Jack waited until Mac had taken several more breaths.

“You afraid she’ll blame you?” He tried to ask the question casually, but the anxiety in the wide blue eyes told him he hadn’t succeeded.

“Kid, it ain’t your fault. And she’s pretty reasonable, y’know, for a teenager. She’ll understand that.”

“But, Jack, I…” Mac looked away.

“Hey, I’m sorry I teased you before. I’m not blaming you, and she won’t either, all right? Besides, how do you know she didn’t give it to you?”

Mac thought about that, attempting to figure the timeline of symptoms. Katie _had_ seemed a little tired when he’d seen her last Thursday, but he’d figured that was just because she was spending all her time working on the set design for her upcoming theater showcase.

“Or maybe you both caught it from Bozer, or Riley, or one of the dozens of other kids who have it. You said there were lots of ways to spread it, right?” He caught Mac’s eyes. “Yeah, I listen.”

Mac shrugged. “Guess…no way to know for sure?”

“No. But here’s what I do know. I know that you’re a good friend, tryna do somethin’ that’ll cheer her up, and I know she’ll love it, no matter who she thinks gave her the k—mono. If you want, I can drop it off with Sara tomorrow so you don’ hafta see her yet.”

Mac fidgeted for a moment, but then he nodded. “Thanks, Jack.”

Jack threw an arm around the kid’s shoulders. “Anytime, bud. Now how about a snack? I’ve got some jello for ya.”

Mac made a face, but he let Jack guide him up the stairs. “Ice cream?”

Jack grinned. “All right, kiddo. Anything you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Glass Menagerie_ is a play by Tennessee Williams and is available [here](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=15&ved=2ahUKEwiU0qell4bhAhWI2YMKHY5tA2MQFjAOegQIDhAC&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.pval.org%2Fcms%2Flib%2FNY19000481%2FCentricity%2FDomain%2F105%2Fthe_glass_menagerie_messy_full_text.pdf&usg=AOvVaw3bXqDyY1gRgdLb7171LG3N).
> 
> There are companies that make glasses specifically for people with Down syndrome. [This](https://www.specs4us.com/) is one such site.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mac really doubts his self-worth and his place in Jack's life in this chapter, and Jack, after a couple false starts, is surprisingly eloquent. Also, Mac's theories about Odysseus are his, not mine.

_**Wednesday - Friday** _

Mac did go back to school on Wednesday, and Jack insisted on rearranging his schedule so he could drive Mac there and pick him up in the afternoon. Bozer was back the same day, but Mac didn’t mention this, not wanting to give his dad a chance to make more awful jokes in front of his friends. Thankfully, no one at school said anything, considering a large percentage of the student population was in various stages of the virus.

The fatigue was harder to shake than Mac expected. He surprised both himself and Jack Wednesday afternoon when he took a nap after school. Jack had a hard enough time waking him for dinner later that he almost insisted Mac stay home again on Thursday, but the kid was careful to bounce out of bed the next morning with more energy than he felt, and Jack didn’t fight him. But after school, Jack plied his son with milk and chocolate-chip cookies and coaxed him onto the living-room couch for another nap.

Friday was a repeat of Thursday. Jack was enjoying this way too much, Mac thought, but that didn’t stop him from savoring the cookies—Macadamia nut this time—Jack had picked up from a bakery right before school let out so they were still warm. He didn’t even protest when Jack shooed him toward the couch again. One more day of napping wouldn’t hurt. Jack had said he could go back to work at the stable tomorrow, although he’d warned it might only be for half the day.

When Mac awoke later that evening, he stretched and almost smacked Jack on the side of the head. The man was sitting on the floor next to the couch, holding his laptop, earbuds in.

“Hey, good morning, sunshine!” Jack paused something on the computer, removed one earbud, and turned to grin at Mac. “How ya feelin’?”

Mac was really tired of that question, but he was more curious about what Jack was doing. “’M fine, Jack. How come you’re sitting there? What’re you doing?”

Jack looked slightly embarrassed, but he smiled. “Know what I found? _The Odyssey_ in a miniseries!” He held up his laptop. “Figured maybe I’d catch up on all the stuff I missed from the beginning.”

Mac blinked. “Um, Jack, I’m not sure how accurately that—”

“Pfff. I’m not the one who has to write papers about it for school, right? It’s almost finished. Wanna watch the rest with me?”

Mac shrugged and sat up. “Yeah, okay.”

Jack slid up from the floor onto the couch and handed Mac one of the earbuds.

“Jack, you know we could screencast—”

“Hey, stop with the geeky talk. Just watch, okay?” Jack put an arm around the kid, and Mac gave in and rested against Jack’s shoulder. They both settled back to watch the last forty-five minutes of the show. Jack had littered the coffee table with snacks, and he reached out for a handful of popcorn. After eating some himself, he held the rest for Mac, who opened his mouth to accept without seeming to notice what he was doing.

The miniseries was funnier than it should be thanks to Jack’s commentary, and Mac objected only once, when Jack accidentally gave him a white gummy bear.

“Yuck.”

“Sorry, kiddo. Forgot.”

Mac just shook his head absently, eyes fixed on the screen as he allowed his dad to feed him a handful of raisins.

When the movie was over, the two sat in silence for a few minutes, still packed close together at one end of the couch. Mac finally removed his earbud and handed it to Jack, but he didn’t move. Jack pushed aside some of the snack bowls and deposited his laptop on the coffee table.

“Thanks for watchin’ with me,” he said quietly into Mac’s hair.

Mac shrugged. “Wasn’t doing anything else. Besides, you were apparently expecting an army.” He waved a hand at the profusion of edibles littering the coffee table.

Jack chuckled. “I didn’t hear any complaining earlier, kiddo. Now if you say you don’t want any supper, then maybe I’ll admit I went a tad bit overboard.”

Mac thought about asking how exactly Jack expected him to eat more after they’d polished off half the contents of the kitchen cupboards, but he wasn’t really in the mood to poke fun at his dad.

“Maybe later,” he temporized. Jack squeezed him, and he leaned further into Jack.

“All right,” Jack murmured, shifting so he could pull a blanket over his son and wrap both arms around him. “I’m gonna hold you to that, bud.”

“Okay.” Mac was quiet for a while. “Hey, Jack?”

“Mm-hm?” Jack’s eyes were closed, and he was running his fingers through the kid’s hair as if he didn’t realize he were doing so.

“Do you think Odysseus was a good dad?”

Jack’s eyes popped open. “What?”

Mac didn’t repeat the question, but he looked up briefly and then tucked his head back over Jack’s heart.

Jack removed his hand from Mac’s hair to scratch the back of his head, thinking. “This somethin’ you have to write for class?”

Mac shook his head. “Just wondering. Never mind.”

Jack frowned slightly. Mac’s _never minds_ always meant there was more to the story.

“Well,” he began carefully, “I think he _wanted_ to be a good dad. But he wasn’t around while the kid was growin’ up, y’know?”

Mac was nodding. “Yeah. Maybe he would have been good if he hadn’t—if things had been different.”

Jack waited, hoping for another clue, still not sure what was going on in his little genius’s mind.

“Telemachus was a good son, though,” Mac finally offered.

Jack resumed carding his fingers through the kid’s hair. “Think so?”

“Yeah. I mean, he did exactly what Odysseus said, and he…y’know, he was loyal to his dad.” Mac twisted to look up at Jack. “Don’t you think so?”

“Yeah, son, you’re right. He was a good kid.” Jack decided to take a chance on steering the conversation. “Just not as good as _my_ kid.”

Mac’s nose wrinkled in that way Jack found irresistibly endearing, but then he smiled. “Well, I have the perfect dad.”

Jack could swear his heart stopped beating. “I—I ain’t perfect, kid.”

Mac looked like he was about to protest, so Jack continued, aiming for a lighter tone than he felt.

“You forget about the time I almost ruined your field trip ‘cause I forgot to sign your permission slip?”

Mac scowled. “My fault. Should have reminded you. ‘Sides, you fixed that when Mr. Hernandez called.”

Jack decided now was not the time to address Mac’s penchant for blaming himself for everything. “And what about the time I accidentally told little Katie you were plannin’ to ask her to Homecoming?”

Mac propped himself up so he could glare at his father. “You did that on purpose. You thought I wouldn’t get up the nerve to ask her myself.”

Jack held up his hands. “I swear it was an accident. You know how sometimes I run my mouth without thinkin’.”

“Most of the time,” Mac grumbled.

“But you don’t still hold that against me, right, buddy?”

Mac let out an aggrieved sigh. “Nooo, Jack. I forgive you.”

“All right, then.” Jack tugged at the kid, who allowed himself to be snuggled again. “Families ain’t about bein’ perfect, you know. Sure, I lucked out and got the closest to perfect there is, but even you, little boy, have your faults.”

He was teasing, but he should have known the kid wasn’t in the right frame of mind for it. Mac tensed.

“Like not telling you stuff even when you said I should?”

Jack groaned internally. Mac was beating himself up again.

“Hey, kiddo, we talked about this. You’re gonna do better. And so am I. Right?”

“Yeah, but…” Mac was curling in more tightly, face almost buried in Jack’s shirt, and Jack had a hard time making out the soft words. “But you shouldn’t—shouldn’t have to…you worry, and you take care of me when I’m sick, and you never get mad, and…” Mac looked up so suddenly his head almost cracked his dad in the jaw. “I’m just too much trouble, Jack.”

“Hey.” Jack sat up, putting his hands on both sides of the kid’s face. “That is _not_ true, and I never wanna hear you say that again, you hear me?”

Mac’s breath was coming in short, shallow pants, blue eyes wide and anxious.

“Mac? You listenin’ to me? There is no way you are too much trouble. What brought this on? You know I love you, right?”

Mac nodded very slowly, unblinking.

“Okay. So what’s goin’ on?” Jack hugged the kid close, and Mac let him.

“Just…nothin’. Never mind.”

“Huh-uh. You know I can’t let this go now, man. Talk to me.”

Mac took a deep breath. “Just…your life would be e—so much easier. Without me.”

Jack fought the crushing pressure on his lungs, unable to draw in enough air to speak. For a few seconds, gray spots danced in his vision, and a corner of his mind wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like.

His attention snapped back when Mac yipped in protest at his tightening grip.

“Sorry,” he muttered, loosening his hold. “Mac…”

Mac pushed away, sitting up straight. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Just…forget it, okay?”

Jack straightened as well. “Mac—”

“Jack, it’s fine, all right? I mean, it’s too late, and I know you’ll make the best of it, ‘cause that’s what you do, so it doesn’t—”

“ _Mac._ ” Jack grabbed the wildly gesticulating hands. “What in the name of all that is holy are you talking about?”

Mac glanced at his dad briefly before dropping his eyes.

“Mac. What do you mean it’s too late?”

Jack felt like chewing nails, desperate for the kid to respond. After what felt like an eternity, Mac spoke to the floor.

“The adoption. You made it official.”

Jack’s jaw dropped. “And you think—”

Mac was looking at the far side of the room now, his expression wistful. “Maybe you just said it without thinking, y’know? And I took it seriously. I…shouldn’t…Jack, I’m s—”

“ _No._ ” Jack suddenly realized he was trembling, literally shaking with rage and sorrow and something else he couldn’t define. “Don’t you dare apologize, son. And don’t you ever, ever say that again.”

Mac flinched just slightly, trying to remove his hands from Jack’s. The man didn’t let go.

“No, you listen to me. The day I became your dad _officially_ was the best day of my life. Do you hear me? The. Best. Day.”

Mac was shaking his head very slightly.

“Yeah, I say a lot of things without thinking ‘em through first. _But adopting you wasn’t one of them._ I _wanted_ you, Mac, not just that first minute, but forever. I wanted you to be my son, and you will _always_ be my son.”

Jack had finally stopped trembling, but now Mac was shaking, tears rolling unchecked down his face. Jack let go of one of Mac’s hands so he could turn the kid to face him.

“Are you hearin’ me, kid?” His voice was lower, gentler now. “I love you, son. Completely, forever, no matter what.”

Mac sniffled, and the naked vulnerability in his expression hurt Jack to the core. Big blue eyes, still wet and shadowed, met Jack’s with the utter frankness of a child, shimmering with the need for the truth and the longing for that truth to be…bearable.

“Why?”

“Oh, son.” Jack helplessly tried to pull Mac into his embrace, but the kid pushed back, eyes still fixed on the man’s face. Jack bit his lip to keep from crying. _How do I explain why a person loves another person when the kid is convinced he isn’t worth loving?_

He stared into the kid’s eyes, unable to come up with any words, and finally Mac looked away, rolling his shoulders a bit as though giving up.

“Mac…I’m gonna tell you a story,” Jack said slowly.

The kid was taken aback and then looked dubious. “What kind of story?”

A faint chuckle burbled up, and Jack felt himself relax just slightly. “A Dalton original. With no puppets, okay?”

Mac considered this for a moment, head tilted to one side, but then he gave Jack a _go ahead_ look.

“Okay. You comfy?” This wasn’t a question but was said merely to warn the kid that Jack was about to fold him to his chest. Mac was still tense, but he didn’t resist this time. “All right. So…once upon a time—”

Mac shifted against Jack’s shirt to aim a one-eyed glare. Jack ignored the silent criticism.

“Once upon a time, there was a handsome and charming cowboy.”

“Jack,” Mac reproved.

“That’s right! That was his name!” Jack winked at the kid’s half-irritated expression. “Nice of you to notice.” He preened exaggeratedly until he heard Mac snort with repressed laughter.

“So this handsome and charming cowboy had a great life. Had some good friends, plenty of ladies to keep him company when he wanted—” He winked again to get a rise out of Mac. “And he got to work with the best horses, and he taught others to ride ‘em, and to respect ‘em, and sometimes he really thought he was makin’ a difference, y’know?”

Mac had stopped rolling his eyes and seemed to be listening closely.

“But something was missing. Something he didn’t even know about until he met a skinny little genius klutz who—”

“Jack.”

“No, that’d be weird if we—they were both named Jack, wouldn’t it? Hm, but maybe a name that _rhymes_ with Jack, just isn’t as cool…”

“ _Jack_.”

“Wow, you really only know one name, doncha, kid? I’ll—”

Mac groaned. “Jack, just stop already. This is almost as bad as your wolf story.”

“Hey, that was a modern classic!”

“Yeah, they’re just lining up for the movie rights.”

“You sassing me, young man?”

“Jack.” Mac groaned again and dropped his forehead to Jack’s shoulder. “Please don’t say I complete you.”

There was a suspiciously long silence.

“That…wasn’t what I was gonna say.”

“Yeah? So what was it?”

Jack huffed. “Well, now I’m not gonna tell ya.”

“You have no idea, do you?”

“Okay, smartypants, I _do_ have an idea. It’s your turn.”

“What?”

“Yeah. _You_ tell the story.” Jack’s voice deepened, the levity bleeding out. “You tell me what you think would be so great about my life right now without you in it.”

Mac hesitated.

“Go on. Want one of my socks?”

Mac recoiled. “Ew, no.”

“All right, then.” Jack sat back, crossing his arms. “Let’s see how you like the heckling from the peanut gallery.” Jack punctuated his point by grabbing a peanut from the bowl of mixed nuts and flicking it at the kid.

Mac ducked. “Hey! You know that _heckling_ doesn’t include throwing things, right?”

“You’re lucky I don’t have any rotten tomatoes. Get a move on, storyteller. It ain’t good when it hasn’t started yet.”

Mac started at his dad for another few moments, but Jack met his gaze without blinking. Okay, this was an insane assignment, but Mac had never been one to back away from a challenge.

He started slowly. “Most people think Odysseus was a victim of the gods, a tragic figure unwillingly separated from his home by fates beyond his control.”

Jack stiffened in surprise, his hard expression melting into curiosity.

Mac began picking up speed. “He left his wife and infant son to fight a war that meant nothing to him, and then he spent ten more years trying to get back home, fighting monsters, sailing forward and back, and somehow never quite getting there. At least, that’s what everyone believes.

“Odysseus spoke with gods. He traveled across all the known seas of his time. He met fantastic creatures and found a way to defeat them. He talked with the dead and heard the song of the sirens. _Two_ different immortals fell in love with him. And all along, he kept saying he wanted to get home. He wanted to go back to his wife and son.”

Jack was leaning forward, listening intently.

“Everyone believed that Odysseus wanted to return to Ithaca. That’s why they said he was dead—because nothing would have kept him away. Even Odysseus himself may have believed it.

“But it wasn’t true.”

Jack’s mouth opened slightly, but no sound escaped.

“You know what Odysseus really wanted? He really just wanted…to _go_. He could never be happy in one place for long. No matter where he was, he wanted to go somewhere else, explore some place new, see different sights, challenge himself with the unknown. The only time he really felt alive was when he was on the move. He couldn’t be tied down.”

Jack was shaking his head, tiny, quick motions that made him dizzy, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

“Why do you think the story ends where it does? Anyone can be content for a little while. Odysseus was probably happy to see his wife, and he got to win one last big battle. But they don’t tell about a year after that, or five years after that. Because that’s when Odysseus would want to leave again. That’s when he’d realize he was trapped, that he shouldn’t have come home at all, because then he didn’t have an excuse to go again, and he didn’t want to be forced to stay. He only wanted to be free to go…” Mac’s voice trailed off.

“Mac…” Jack whispered.

Mac furiously dragged a hand under his nose and spoke with cutting bitterness. “Because sometimes people think something will make them happy, and then they find out that it really just ties them down.”

Jack couldn’t speak around the lump in his throat. Mac was turned away, looking both sadder and angrier than Jack could ever remember seeing him. Jack swallowed, tried to speak, and swallowed again.

“Mac…kiddo, please, tell me what I need to do. How do I prove I love you? What’ll it take? Just tell me, son, and I’ll do it. Whatever it is. Anything.”

Mac was blinking frantically and didn’t answer.

“Mac, please. Want me to give you more space? _Less_ space? You wanna drive the GTO?” At the point, Jack was not above begging or bribing. “Want me to get your name tattooed on my—”

“Jack,” Mac interjected.

“Get your mind outta the gutter, kid. I was gonna say ‘arm.’ But wherever—”

“Jack,” Mac said again, more softly this time. “Just stop, okay?”

Jack opened his mouth, couldn’t dredge up any more words, and shut it again.

“You don’t have to prove anything. You—you prove it _every day_.” Mac’s voice was tightening, the pitch creeping up. “Everything you do, and everything you say, and I _know_ you love me, Jack. I know you do.”

Jack let out a breath. “Well, that’s all—”

“So why can’t I—why do I sometimes feel—I _know_ it’s true, but then I start, I don’t know, like there’s two voices in my head, and they’re fighting, and…”

Mac gave up attempting to explain. Words were inadequate.

“Son.” Jack cautiously reached out, resting his hands very lightly on Mac’s shoulders. “You can tell me anything, and I will always listen, but…do you think—maybe you wanna talk to somebody else? Like, a professional?” He felt the shoulders stiffen. “There’s nothin’ wrong with getting’ help, kid. I had a great gal when I got back from my last tour. Helped me a lot, y’know, just sortin’ stuff out upstairs.”

“You saw a sh—a psychiatrist?”

“Yeah. I tried not to for a long time ‘cause I was bein’ stupid and macho, but that was just makin’ things worse for me and everybody around me.” Jack was silent for a minute, remembering. “I’m—glad you didn’t know me then, kiddo.” He looked at Mac, who was at least facing him now. “You think less of me for that?”

Mac blinked in surprise. “For talking to a therapist? Of course not.”

“Good. So you know I wouldn’t think any less of you if that’s somethin’ you wanted to do.”

Mac slowly lifted one shoulder. “Maybe. I don’t…”

“You don’t have to decide today. Don’t even have to decide this week, or this month. The offer is open any time. It’s totally your decision, okay?”

Mac finally nodded. “Okay. Thanks, Jack.”

Jack slowly slid his arms from the kid’s shoulders to his back, afraid that at any moment Mac would pull away again. However, he scooted forward and wrapped his arms around Jack’s chest, leaning in.

“You know I’d do anything for you, right, kiddo?”

Mac nodded. “I know. Just wish…”

“What?”

A massive sigh gusted into the silence. “Wish I could do as much for you.”

Finally, a problem Jack felt he might be able to deal with. He’d thought about this often enough since Mac had come into his life. “Hey, kid, for one, families ain’t a transaction. We don’t keep track of who does what like we’re tallying up IOUs or something.”

Mac hummed thoughtfully into Jack’s shirt.

“And two, if we _were_ keeping score, I would be so far behind you that I’d never catch up.”

Mac looked up, confused but too exhausted to voice the question.

“Mac, you—you have given me so much. _So much_ , kid. You make me happier than I ever thought was possible. Every day I get to spend with you is like…what are those weird candy toys you got Cassi hooked on?”

Mac’s brow wrinkled. “You mean Kinder Joy eggs?”

“Yeah, those.”

When Jack didn’t continue, Mac couldn’t stop himself from following up. “You’re saying I’m a toy with a chocolate cream wafer?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “No, genius.” He paused. “Well, okay, maybe that is kinda what I said, but I meant that being with you is like something really great that opens up and somehow it gets even better. You wouldn’t think it was possible, but it’s true.”

Mac took in Jack’s starry-eyed expression, felt himself blushing, and shook his head. “But—”

“And besides making me happy, kiddo, you did something…you did something for me…” Jack’s eyes were unnaturally bright. “Mac, you gave me a purpose.”

Mac’s eyebrows shot up.

“You know I said I thought I was makin’ a difference sometimes? Workin’ with the horses, and teachin’ kids like little Cassi, and makin’ her happy, and helpin’ to keep kids like your friend Bozer off the street.” Jack attempted a smile, and Mac quirked his lips in response. “But it wasn’t—there just wasn’t—I didn’t have a _mission_ , Mac. Didn’t really have a purpose for my life. Until you.”

“Keeping _me_ off the street,” Mac deadpanned, and then winced. It was a little too close to literally true.

But Jack was shaking his head. “No, you’re not gettin’ it, kid. You’re not the mission. You’re the tool.”

Mac blinked.

“Uh, no offense.”

“You know, saying ‘no offense’ doesn’t make it not offensive.”

Jack grinned for the first time in what felt like hours. “Okay, braniac. I didn’t mean it like that and you know it.”

Mac shook his head. “Do _you_ even know what you meant?”

Jack mussed the blond hair. “C’mon, keep up with me here. You, Angus MacGyver Dalton…you are going to change the world. Or at least your part of it.”

“Jack…”

“Hear me out. You’re a genius, kid, and you’re gonna amaze everyone with what you can do, ‘cause whatever you decide, you’re gonna do it better than anyone who’s ever come before. But it isn’t about what you _do_ , son. It’s about who you are.”

Jack looked straight into the wide blue eyes, pausing to choose his words carefully. This was not the time to speak without thinking.

“You, Mac, you are like a light in the darkness. You bring joy to everyone around you because you _care_ about everyone around you. Remember what you did for Mrs. Callahan and her yappy little mutt?”

“She’s a pedigreed miniature poodle—”

“And ol’ Mrs. C couldn’t let her out like she used to, and you rigged up a doggy door in nothin’ flat.”

“It wasn’t hard—”

“That’s my point. It isn’t about what you can do, kid. It’s about you bein’ the kind of person who wants to help others, who notices what they need, who figures out _how_ to help ‘em. The kind of person who figures out ways to make everyone happier, even if that someone is a horse too spoiled for her own good. The kind of person who teaches a kid like Cassi how to make stuff out of paperclips like you do just to make her laugh. The kind of person who remembers random books your friend likes and makes a one-of-a-kind get-well present.”

“It was a play,” Mac demurred, but he was starting to smile.

“You are the kindest, smartest, most thoughtful person I’ve ever known, kid, and releasing you on the world is only gonna make the world a better place. _That’s_ my mission. To make sure you can shine your light wherever you want. And then I’m gonna sit back and tell everybody…that’s my son.”

Mac slumped against his dad, tired but more at peace than he’d been all week. “Jack, I—” He hesitated, not as comfortable with verbalizing feelings as Jack seemed to be. He tightened his arms around Jack’s chest and tried again. “I love you.”

Jack was holding his kid as if he were the only thing standing between him and a fall to certain death. “I love you too, son. And I am never gonna get tired of telling you that, okay?”

Mac made an indistinct sound into Jack’s shirt.

“And if Odysseus didn’t want to be home with his family…well, then he was an idiot. ‘Cause there are no whirlpools or cyclones or nymphos or _anything_ that could ever keep me away from you.”

“Cyclops,” Mac corrected automatically. “And…did you mean _nymphs_?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

Mac shook his head, deciding it wasn’t worth pursuing. “Hey, you know something? You were right and I was wrong.”

“ _What?_ ” Jack staggered back, falling onto the arm of the sofa, dramatically slapping a hand over his heart. “What is this I’m hearing? Is that even possible?”

Mac tried to hide a grin at his dad’s antics. “Do you wanna know why? Or do you just wanna lie there twitching like a wounded possum?”

Jack smirked at the analogy. “All right, genius. Lay it on me.”

Mac’s tone became more thoughtful. “You said you weren’t perfect. And you were right.”

Jack narrowed his eyes, but Mac didn’t appear to be joking.

“And neither am I. Guess no families are perfect.”

“Well, that’s true…” Jack started cautiously.

“But you were kind of wrong, too. ‘Cause even if you’re not perfect…you’re the perfect dad _for me_.”

 

~~~

 

Lying in bed unable to fall asleep usually made it up to about the number-three spot on Mac’s list of minor annoyances, but tonight he was just grateful that he was finally managing not to nod off every few hours. He wasn’t back to full energy levels yet, but at least he was on his way.

After twenty minutes of staring at the ceiling, Mac gave up. Jack would probably pitch a fit if he caught Mac going down to his lab, but he could get a drink and play around on his iPad in the living room for a while.

He padded quietly down the hall, steps slowing when he noticed light coming through Jack’s slightly open bedroom door. He frowned, noticed that it really wasn’t that late—not even midnight yet—and felt irritated with himself again for being pleased that he could stay awake past eleven o’clock.

“No. You’re kiddin’.” Jack guffawed and then tried to smother his laughter.

Curious, Mac moved closer. Jack had his phone tucked between ear and shoulder, and even without seeing the man’s face, Mac knew from his posture that he was talking to Diane. He really should leave—he wasn’t an _eavesdropper_ —but then he heard Jack mention his name.

“Yeah, Mac went back Wednesday. Maybe shouldn’t have, but he already tried to sneak out on Tuesday, and he looked like a sad little puppy beggin’ for a treat. You know that look he gets.”

Mac scowled.

“Not sure I was ever that excited about goin’ to school, but maybe he was just tired of bein’ cooped up with just me for company.”

 _Not true,_ Mac thought, and Diane must have said something similar. Jack grunted.

“Yeah, no, you’re right. I know.

“No, he was all right. Just still sleepin’ a lot, but you know how he is. Won’t say a word and just pushes through until he collapses.” Jack sounded absurdly proud even as he complained. “At least Ri has some sense now and then.”

There was a long pause, and then Jack burst out laughing. “No. Not a chance! I can’t believe our little angel girl would…oh, yeah?” Jack was still chuckling. “Okay, you win. Yeah, can’t wait to see her. She’ll never live it down.”

Jack’s voice softened. “Nah, he wasn’t any trouble. You know Mac. Good as gold, always.”

Mac shuffled his feet. Was Jack just saying that to impress Diane?

“Oh, well, now when they get bored, that’s a whole nother story.” Jack laughed again, listening. “Really? Yeah, that’s pretty impressive, but you shoulda seen the little gadget Mac whipped up for Katie. Like a magic flower growing right in front of ya. Yeah, I got a video of him demonstrating. You’ll love it.”

Mac’s eyes narrowed. How had Jack managed that without him noticing?

“Well, he was maybe a little more… _motivated_. It was for Katie, after all. Riles’ll catch up. Like I told the kid, she’s gonna do great things.”

Jack sighed contemplatively. “Ever wonder how you an’ me ended up with a couple little geniuses like them?

“Yeah. I say thank you every day.”

Mac stared at the floor, feeling his face heat up.

“Was that Riley? What’d she want?” Jack listened for a moment and then chuckled. “Well, if the princess wants a popsicle, go get her a popsicle! Her throat still sore, huh?

“Yeah, it’s all right. We’ll talk later. Go on. The little one needs you.” Jack’s voice lowered enough that Mac could barely catch the words. “Gotta hope that they always need us, no matter how old they get.”

Jack straightened. “Tell Ri we’re thinkin’ of her, okay? Love you too. Night.” He tapped his phone and stood for a minute, wavering uncertainly as though considering his next move.

Mac took a silent step backwards, not wanting to be caught listening to a private conversation. When Jack turned toward the door, his expression intent and focused, Mac knew instantly the man had made up his mind to check on his kid, and there was no way Mac would make it back to his bedroom without Jack hearing him.

He went on the offensive, stepped up the bedroom door, and knocked.

The door was yanked open while his knuckles were still on the wood. “Mac? You okay?” Gone was Jack’s tranquil bearing. He pulled the kid inside the room to get a look at him in the light.

“I’m fine, Jack.”

The concern in Jack’s expression did not abate.

“Really. I’m fine. I just…” Drat. He hadn’t thought this through. Mac scuffed one foot against the other, thinking.

“You need somethin’, kiddo?” Jack asked softly, having completed a visual inspection of his son. Mac looked almost completely back to normal, but looks could be deceiving.

“No, I—” Mac stopped, looking up at his dad, considering the half of the conversation he’d overheard. “Actually…yeah.”

Worry sparked in the brown eyes. “What is it, bud? You feel—”

“Jack,” Mac cut in before Jack could start listing every possible problem he imagined Mac might have. “I’m really okay. I just…needed to say goodnight to my dad.”

The hands on Mac’s shoulders stilled, and then Jack pulled him into a hug. “Yeah?” He waited until Mac nodded against his t-shirt and then let out a relieved breath. “Well, that’s good, ‘cause that’s what I needed too.”

Eyes closed, surrounded by Jack’s scent, braced by Jack’s solidity, Mac murmured, “I’m always gonna need you, Jack.”

There was a pause. “Did you…hear what I was sayin’ to Diane?”

_Oops._

“Um…maybe a little bit.” Mac glanced up, but Jack seemed more amused than anything else. “But it’s still true.”

He felt rather than heard Jack’s chuckle. “Good thing. ‘Cause I’m always gonna need you too, you know that.”

Mac nodded again and yawned.

“Ready for bed?” Jack hesitated. “Do you…you wanna stay here? Save you going all the way back to your room?”

It was a lame excuse, especially considering Mac’s room was right down the hall, but both Daltons tacitly agreed to pretend it had merit.

Mac yawned once more and shuffled over to the queen-sized bed, letting Jack hold up the covers so he could crawl inside. Jack turned off the light, and then Mac felt the mattress dip. Like a moth to a flame, he scooted toward his dad’s warmth.

Jack waited until Mac was settled at his side before running a hand down the kid’s arm to find the long, slender fingers, intertwining them in his own.

“That’s what you said _mano a mano_ means, right?” he whispered.

Mac thought about explaining the phrase generally referred to combat, wondered if Jack already knew that, and decided to let it go. “Close enough.”

Jack hummed softly into Mac’s hair.

_Hey, dummy, are you really going to stay—_

_Shut up. I’m not going to listen to you anymore._

_We’ll see about that. Just wait until he gets tired of you—_

_He won’t._

_You sure about that?_

_Positive. Might as well be Newton’s fourth law of motion. Jack will always be there for me. And I’m gonna be there for him too._

_That’s a big risk to take on faith—_

_It isn’t faith. It’s a fact. Jack proves it every single day. That’s never gonna change. We’re family._

_…_

_Nothing to say? I knew it. You can leave and never come back._

In the dark, Mac smiled and snuggled a little closer to Jack, who automatically tightened an arm around his son. Maybe no family was perfect, but who needed perfect?

All they really needed was each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [_The Odyssey_](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0118414/?ref_=ttfc_fc_tt) two-part miniseries was produced in 1997, directed by Andrey Konchalovskiy and starring Armand Assante.
> 
> Kinder Joy eggs are plastic eggs with a toy in one half and some (really disgusting) cream/wafer thing in the other half. Kids seem to like them. [Here](https://www.walmart.com/ip/Kinder-Joy-12-pk/472846015?wmlspartner=wlpa&selectedSellerId=2165&adid=22222222227258841144&wl0=&wl1=s&wl2=c&wl3=309549074788&wl4=pla-621895420237&wl5=9018305&wl6=&wl7=&wl8=&wl9=pla&wl10=113146303&wl11=online&wl12=472846015&wl13=&veh=sem&gclid=EAIaIQobChMIxqG0pv2G4QIVjMDACh23JwGeEAQYASABEgKfufD_BwE) is a picture.


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